


Jade Dream

by the_pr0n_account



Series: The Shadow Cartel 'verse [1]
Category: Original Work
Genre: Aquaphilia, Bondage, Breathplay, Canon Non-Binary Character, Consensual Kink, Consentacles, Drug Use, Dubious Consent, Edgeplay, F/M, Gender or Sex Swap, Mud, Mudbaths, Multi, Multiple Orgasms, Nipple Play, Non-Consensual Drug Use, Other, Pool Sex, Porn With Plot, Power Exchange, Predicament Bondage, Risk Aware Consensual Kink, Telepathy, Tentacle Sex, Tentacles, Threesome, Underwater Sex, Water Bondage, Water Sex, Waterbondage, Wet & Messy, but not between the main characters
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-02
Updated: 2020-08-22
Packaged: 2021-03-06 01:41:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 14
Words: 22,675
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25675264
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/the_pr0n_account/pseuds/the_pr0n_account
Summary: A dangerous new drug called Jade Dream is turning the rich and powerful into puppets of the Shadow Cartel. At the behest of her superiors in the rival Conglomerate, the mysterious operative known as Cobalt calls in telepathically bonded couple Dax and Jemma Veillor’ah to investigate.When the pair discovers that the mission involves going under cover at the exclusive spa on the planet of Pendris, they can hardly believe their luck. Suddenly, they’ve gone from scratching out an existence as space pirates and smugglers, to posing as wealthy tourists at a pleasure dome that boasts volcanic mud baths, tentacled alien massage specialists, virtual reality gender-swapping tech, and fantasy kidnap-and-rescue games.At which point, things take exactly the sort of turn you’d expect—at least until Dax and Jemma’s pesky mission rears its ugly head again.There’s also a feisty heroine, a protective alpha male, a surprisingly likable alien monster, an unexpected hint of feels, and a happy ending with no cliffhanger—all packed into a 23,000-word novella. Come explore Pendris, where everything is a commodity to be bought and sold—even happiness.
Relationships: Dax Veillor’ah/Jemma Veillor'ah, Dax Veillor’ah/Jemma Veillor'ah/Handsy, Dax Veillor’ah/Jemma Veillor'ah/S'rella
Series: The Shadow Cartel 'verse [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1861717
Kudos: 12





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is an original work first published under my now-defunct Alex River pen name. It never sold, so I figured it might find an audience here. Jade Dream made the mistake of being erotica for a set of very specific (and not very popular) kinks, but with way too much external plot attached.
> 
> So… mind the tags, because the kink is coming in spades. But you'll have to wade through a couple of chapters of plot to get to it. :P

M’RESS ADJUSTED THE heavy pendant hanging between her breasts as she waited for the lift doors to open. A soft ping sounded over the tasteful background music, and with a final tug to her tailored skirt, she strode forward into the reception area. The 212th floor of the Justinian Development Corporation’s Research Facility was all glass and burnished steel, sharp edges and minimalism. Tissa, the chirpy, androgynous receptionist, looked up from zir holoscreen and greeted M’ress with a smile.

“Good morning, Ms. Justinian!” zhe said cheerfully. “My goodness—you’re positively glowing today. It appears that you had an excellent time at the pleasure spa.”

In fact, M’ress had never felt better in her life. Her body was positively singing with a sense of relaxation and blissful well-being, thanks to the skilled knowhow of the spa staff and management. She smiled at Tissa, feeling the happiness radiate from her face like a beam of pure light as she laughed with pure joy.

“Oh, Tissa, you have _no idea_.”

Tissa’s expression turned faintly wistful. “Is it true they have massage therapists there who can make you climax nonstop for _hours_? I mean… I can’t even _imagine_ what it would be like to go somewhere like that.”

“They do indeed. And the masseuses are only the beginning. There’s virtual reality tech installed right in the rooms, and the mud baths! Oh, don’t get me started on the mud baths.” M’ress’s smile turned soft. “I met with a member of the management on my last day, you know. Amazing man. The only thing they care about is providing their guests with happiness. _Real_ happiness.”

“Maybe someday I’ll get to go there,” Tissa said, in the tone of someone who knew that they could never possibly become rich enough to do so in their lifetime. 

A sudden wash of fondness flooded M’ress. If her current plans didn’t make such a thing impractical, she would happily pay for Tissa to visit the spa on Pendris for a day or two. Zhe deserved it, really. Not only was zhe a lovely person, but zhe was also exceptionally good at zir job.

“I’m sure you will, Tissa,” M’ress said in consolation. “Someday.”

Tissa smiled at her, though it was a bit weaker than before. M’ress excused herself and headed down the hallway to her office, which overlooked the great metropolis below. She closed the door behind her, still smiling, before crossing to the massive designer desk with its ergonomically designed captain’s chair and sleek computer interface.

The memory card with Mr. Black’s custom-designed virus slid smoothly into place. M’ress poured herself a drink and stood next to the floor-to-ceiling wall of windows to watch the city while the malicious program invaded the system. It really was a stunningly beautiful day outside. The sky was a clear and vibrant shade of lilac with a few puffy white clouds drifting here and there among the skyscrapers. She took a deep breath, reveling in the way it expanded her lungs. Life truly didn’t get any better than this, she reflected.

When the terminal beeped to let her know that the viral program was complete, she took a final sip of her drink and set down the expensive crystal tumbler. The micro-explosive charge in the pendant of her necklace was a lovely shade of amber, and she twisted it this way and that between her fingers for a few moments, enjoying the way the light played over the sharp facets. With a soft hum of satisfaction, she thumbed the tiny catch at the back that would trigger the 20-megaton blast.

The world went white, and disappeared in a flash of searing heat.


	2. Chapter 2

THE WOMAN KNOWN only as Cobalt shoved the video display unit on her desk away in disgust. The low buzz of news commentary continued in the background as reporters pecked and worried at the tragedy like carrion birds fighting over a kill.

The Justinian Building in the main city on New Carthage was gone, as was an eight-klick radius around it. Only a crater remained. Hundreds of thousands were dead, untold tens of thousands more injured.

Cobalt’s jaw worked in anger. This was a step too far. _Several_ steps too far. War had been declared between the galactic cartels, and it was time to call in the stealth weapons. She reached out a manicured finger and flipped the intercom switch.

“Yes, Ma’am?” answered the pleasant male voice of her executive assistant.

“Tomás, send an encoded message to the crew of the _SS Javelin_. I have a job for them. I want them in this office before the subspace echo fades. Tell them…” She paused, considering how to word things to get them here as quickly as possible. “Tell them _money is no object_.”

* * *

The realities of hyperlight travel meant that in point of fact, it was two days before the _Javelin_ made Earth orbit.

Despite the unavoidable delay, Cobalt surveyed the pair in front of her with veiled satisfaction. Jemma and Dax Veillor’ah had a reputation for getting things done and getting them done well, which was the main reason Cobalt appreciated them. However, the fact that the telepathically bonded couple were also sexy as hell and amazingly easy on the eyes was definitely an added bonus whenever she had reason to meet with them.

The _space pirate_ lifestyle did not encompass a sphere in which Cobalt usually moved, but apparently it involved wearing quite a bit of leather and being in excellent physical condition, along with the whole _looting and pillaging of unmanned transport vessels_ thing.

Dax was, as far as Cobalt had been able to determine from her research, human. Tall and broad-shouldered, he had shoulder-length brown hair pulled back in a ponytail, and piercing blue eyes that seemed to see right through a person. He would have been a bit too much of the _classic space hero_ for her taste, were it not for the scar on his cheek and the old break marring the aquiline slope of his nose.

Jemma, on the other hand, was pretty much sex on a stick. The product of a human father and a Thestrian mother, she was reportedly a telepath of unusual power. Thestrians were vanishingly rare; apparently Jemma’s mother had washed up in a brothel after the catastrophe that had destroyed her home planet.

Cobalt could imagine that being able to read clients’ minds would be a definite asset for a prostitute. She could also imagine that it would get incredibly old, incredibly fast.

At any rate, Jemma had been the unexpected result of one of her mother’s liaisons. as a hybrid, she shouldn’t have existed at all without significant medical and genetic intervention. And yet, here she stood—all 155 centimeters of her—with raven-black hair, soulful brown eyes, and plump, tempting curves hiding hard muscle underneath.

Something about her had always made Cobalt suspect that she would submit beautifully in the bedroom, but it seemed unlikely she’d ever get a chance to find out directly. According to the stories, Jemma had rescued Dax after his ship crashed, and the pair had mated telepathically soon afterward, bonding them together for life. There was a certain romantic sweetness to the tale if one were moved by such things, Cobalt supposed.

Perhaps one day she would pay them to make a full-immersion holographic porno for her. It seemed like the sort of thing they’d be open to—for the right price, of course. She filed the idea away for future pursuit and returned to the business at hand.

“Thank you for coming on such short notice,” she said. “I’ll get right to the point. Two days ago, the heiress to the Justinian fortune walked into her office on the top floor of the Research and Development building on New Carthage. Ten minutes later, she detonated a micro-explosive, killing herself, some 230,000 others, and leveling everything within an eight-kilometer radius in the capital city.”

“We heard the subspace chatter,” Jemma said. “Though it sounded like a rather carefully sanitized version of events. She was recruited by a cult, they’re saying?”

Cobalt frowned. “No. It might have been easier if she was… but, no. Have either of you heard of Jade Dream?”

The pair looked blank. “What is it?” Dax asked. “Some kind of cybertech?”

“Not quite. It’s a good old-fashioned injectable drug, as it happens,” Cobalt replied. “One that claims to give the user _real happiness_. Unfortunately, the side effect is that it also leaves them extremely suggestible, though they are still able to function more-or-less normally.”

“Dangerous,” Jemma observed.

Cobalt nodded. “And valuable. _Very_ valuable to the right people. Someone is luring the super-rich into trying Jade Dream, and then using them to gain access to government and private sector secrets, commit acts of sabotage, and generally throw the entire sector into disarray.”

Dax’s brow furrowed. “And how does turning New Carthage into a radioactive parking lot further this group’s aim?”

Cobalt breathed out through her nose, a muscle in her jaw ticking. “The security data for the Justinian building was beamed to a storage facility in orbit in real time, so we have records of everything that occurred right up to the moment of the detonation. Before she blew herself and everyone around her to the seven hells, M’ress Justinian did something else. She introduced a viral program into the conglomerate’s research and development mainframe.”

“Sabotage?” Jemma asked.

“Theft,” Cobalt corrected. “As far as the techies can determine, the virus copied all the files on the mainframe, sent them to an undetermined recipient, and then wiped every last trace of data from itself and all associated backup sites.”

“What sort of files are we talking about, here?” Dax said.

“The Justinian Development Corporation had been working on an entirely new type of star-drive for more than a decade. They were apparently very close to building the first prototypes. Taking the project to market would have made them untold trillions of credits.”

“And now the plans and research are just… gone?” asked Dax.

Jemma shook her head. “Not gone. _Someone_ has them, right?”

Cobalt nodded, her expression grim. “So it would seem. That, however, is not why I called you here. I need you to track down the source of Jade Dream and neutralize it, or at least bring back the information I need so that _I_ can neutralize it. The interests I represent are no longer willing to stand by passively while this shadow cartel grows in power and influence.”

Dax blew a low whistle through his teeth. “And you say these people are targeting the super-rich? I’m not sure you’ve really thought this through, Cobalt.” He gave a little self-deprecating wave at himself and Jemma.

“I assure you, I have,” Cobalt replied. “And I further assure you that the organization I work for is more than willing to front the credits necessary to make your act convincing.”

Jemma still looked as skeptical as her bondmate, but she only asked, “What’s our cover story supposed to be, then?”

“You are _nouveau riche_ trust fund babies from the planet Avanar, using your newfound wealth to tour the galaxy.”

“Avanar? Never heard of it,” Dax said.

“That’s the general idea,” Cobalt retorted. “As it happens, Avanar is a somewhat backwards frontier planet that discovered extensive trilithium deposits under its oceans a few years back. Since then, the economy has been more or less flooded with wealth, and a few influential families have emerged as real economic powers in the sector. You two will pose as the black sheep of one such family, shunning the cultural work ethic in favor of seeking out the bacchanalian pleasures available in the developed systems.”

“Well, the _bacchanalian pleasures_ part sounds promising,” Dax said, “but what if they run background checks on us?”

Cobalt raised an eyebrow. “Give me a little credit, Dax. Your covers will be fully supported should anyone contact Avanar for information. I _have_ been doing this sort of thing for a while now, you realize.”

“Where precisely will we be going?” Jemma interjected before Dax could reply.

Cobalt hid her satisfaction at Jemma’s wording— _where_ will _we be going_ , rather than _where_ would _we be going_. Her mask firmly in place, she replied in a dry monotone. “The only confirmed link between the known victims of Jade Dream is that they all visited the pleasure spa on the southern continent of the planet Pendris shortly before turning rogue.”

“The pleasure spa,” Jemma repeated in a flat voice, staring at Cobalt as if she’d grown a second head. “On _Pendris_.”

Cobalt shrugged. “I told you they were targeting the super-rich.”

Dax laughed, sounding faintly shell-shocked, and pinched the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger. “Right. You’re sending us to the most exclusive pleasure dome in the quadrant, where we are supposed to pretend to be rich hedonists from some hick world in the back of beyond. Seriously—how is this my life now?”

“Are you saying no?” Cobalt asked, sarcasm sharpening her tone.

Dax met Jemma’s eyes for a fraction of a second while they did the creepy silent communication thing that they occasionally slipped into when they didn’t want to speak out loud.

“Fuck, no. Of course we’re not saying _no_ ,” he said, still sounding like he expected someone to wake him from a dream. His eyes narrowed a moment later, a speculative glint lighting them. “So. Let’s talk terms.”


	3. Chapter 3

THEY WALKED OUT of Cobalt’s office two hours later with two hundred fifty thousand credits, the promise of an additional two hundred fifty thousand upon successful completion of the mission, an offer of enough upgrades and new paint for the _Javelin_ to make it pass as the toy of a couple of rich kids, and an expense account generous enough to outfit them as wealthy frontier world tourists.

Jemma stopped a few dozen paces from the transport cubicle that would beam them back up to the spacedock berth where the _Javelin_ was moored.

“Right. Pinch me,” she said, and Dax obligingly pinched her on the ass. “ _Ow_. Okay. Good. Not a dream, then.”

“Apparently not,” Dax agreed. “Is she crazy for calling us in on something like this, or are we crazy for accepting?”

“We’re the ones walking away with a cool quarter million and a visit to a pleasure spa with a year-long waiting list. I’m pretty sure we’re not the crazy ones, lover.”

* * *

It took eight days for everything to be finalized. When he saw the refitted _Javelin_ for the first time, Dax was caught between horror at the sudden and complete loss of any credibility they’d ever had as pirates, and a little boy’s glee at suddenly possessing the coolest, sleekest, most chrome-bedecked ship in the dock.

“Wow. That’s amazing,” Jemma said, staring at the transformation. “Yet, simultaneously, kind of awful… in a very, um, _shiny_ way.”

Amusement flooded the bond between them, overcoming whatever misgivings Dax might still have had. “You’ve got to admit,” he said aloud, “it does sort of scream _uncouth rich kids_ now, in a way that it didn’t before.”

“It looks like the sort of ship that would have mirrors on the ceilings above the bunks,” Jemma muttered. 

Predictably, Dax perked up immediately at that. “D’you think? Come on, let’s check…”

Thankfully, it did not have mirrors on the ceilings above the bunks. The bunks themselves, however, were practically unrecognizable. 

“Are these sheets actually made of _satin_?” Jemma asked in disbelief. “Who the hell thinks that’s a good idea _on a fucking space ship_?”

“Stupid rich kids?” Dax suggested, before tumbling her into the ridiculously impractical bed and kissing her senseless.

They emerged—a bit disheveled—some time later, and finished the tour of the ship that had been their home for so long, but now seemed strangely unfamiliar.

“This is definitely going to take some getting used to,” Dax said as he flopped into the pilot’s seat.

“Not as much _getting used to_ as your new wardrobe,” Jemma called from beyond the cockpit. “I hope you like frontier-world chic as a fashion statement.”

Dax groaned. “Does it have any place to hide a blaster?”

“Not… really…” Jemma called back.

“Does _yours_ have anyplace to hide a blaster?”

There was a pause, presumably as she checked her own newly acquired wardrobe. “Er… it would have to be a hell of a small one. Seriously. Like, cleavage-sized. Not to mention flesh-colored.”

Dax grinned to himself and got up to join her. “Okay, on second thought, I think I’m warming to frontier-world chic.”

“I doubt we could get weapons past the pleasure dome’s security anyway,” Jemma observed, holding a gauzy confection of a dress up to her curvy frame.

“Yeah,” Dax said, sobering. “I think the point of the exercise here is going to be flying _under_ the radar as opposed to blowing up the radar installation.”

“Right,” said Jemma. “ _Subtle_. We can do subtle.”

“Of course we can. Come on, let’s get everything stowed for flight and get out of here before Cobalt changes her mind.” Dax planted a final kiss on Jemma’s temple and headed back to start the preflight checks.

* * *

Jemma raised an eyebrow in appreciation as they dropped into orbit around Pendris four days later. The pleasure dome was actually a sprawling collection of connected domes covering a surprisingly large portion of the southern continent. The planet’s atmosphere was toxic, which had allowed investors to purchase rights to it for a bargain price. Whether the added costs of erecting the domes and terraforming the space inside them cancelled out those savings, she had no idea.

The spaceport and attached hanger were large and inviting. It was a very far cry from the dingy, crowded spaces in which they usually docked when they needed to sell cargo someplace where the officials wouldn’t ask too many questions. Dax refused the offer of a valet, wanting to see personally where the _Javelin_ would be berthed, in case they needed to make a hasty exit.

They were met at the bottom of the gangplank by two bellboys from a species Jemma could not immediately identify, along with an obsequious little man who could well have been human. The bellboys came forward and deftly took the ridiculous amount of luggage that Cobalt had provided, while the other man bowed graciously.

“Welcome to Pendris!” he said with great enthusiasm upon straightening. “My name is Mr. Turzall, and I will be your personal concierge during your stay at the spa. Please follow me, and I will show you to your suite in the Phoenix wing.”

“Thank you,” Jemma said graciously, mentally shushing Dax when he sent a quizzical, _is this guy for real?_ across the bond.

They followed the concierge across the echoing marble floor of the hanger bay to a moving walkway and stepped onto it. Inertial dampers kicked in and they were whisked effortlessly through the complex to plush, elegant reception area decorated with rare objects d’art and exotic alien plants. From there, they entered a glass-sided lift that carried them up several levels, giving them a scenic view of the rest of the dome at the same time.

_So this is how the other half lives_ , Jemma thought idly, watching the tiny figures below as they moved around the complex.

* * *

Dax could fully understand and sympathize with Jemma’s silent, wistful commentary. In a galaxy where so many people struggled to live day in and day out, the casual wealth on display here was sobering. On one level, Dax was fully prepared to take advantage of the collateral perks offered by their current mission for as long as they lasted. On another level, he was a bit appalled by the whole thing.

The little procession arrived at a tasteful hardwood door that must have cost an arm and a leg to import, all on its own. Mr. Turzall gave them each a key-chip and showed them how to use it. The door swung open to reveal a suite of rooms that might have come straight out of some magical tale from his childhood on Earth—the Arabian Nights, perhaps.

Sumptuous did not begin to describe it. The concierge gave them a tour of the leather-furnished sitting room—complete with shelves containing real paper books, of all things—followed by the dining area, the outrageously extravagant bathroom with its gold and marble fixtures, and a bedroom with a giant four-poster bed complete with gauzy drapes. The closet was larger than the last flat Dax lived in.

Eventually, the concierge ran out of amenities to list and led them back to the main room. He clapped his hands together briskly.

“Now, would sir and madam prefer to ease into the spa experience slowly or plunge in all at once?” he asked, once the bellboys had deposited the luggage and scurried from the room.

“Oh, all at once, I think,” Dax said with a roguish half-smile. “We’re only here for a few days, after all. Why waste time?”

“An excellent choice, sir,” said the little man. “Do you have anything in particular in mind?”

“Surprise us,” Jemma said. “We’re happy to place ourselves completely in the staff’s hands. We extend blanket consent for the duration of our stay.”

_Living dangerously, pet?_ Dax sent through the link, and was rewarded with the mental equivalent of a smirk from his bondmate.

_Given why we’re really here,_ she shot back, _I’d say we’re already living fairly dangerously._

The concierge’s expression lightened at Jemma’s casual extension of _carte blanche_ , and he nodded with enthusiasm.

“Very good, madam!” he said. “An excellent decision. In that case, might a suggest beginning with a therapeutic mud bath and intimate mud massage by our specialist?”

“You have a specialist in _intimate mud massage_?” Dax asked, amused.

“Oh, _yes_ , sir! The only one on the planet, I’m proud to say. He’s in quite high demand among a… certain segment of our clientele. Shall I arrange for a session for the two of you?”

“Please do,” said Jemma. “I’m actually quite intrigued after hearing your glowing description.”

“Perfect,” the concierge said, and tapped quickly at his smartpad for a few moments. “Good news! It appears there is an opening for you in ten minutes. Your session will last ninety minutes, and there are shower facilities installed next to the volcanic mud pits for you to clean up afterward.”

“Great,” said Dax. “How do we get there?”

The concierge indicated the teleport pad in the corner of the luxurious room. “Matter transport is the best way to travel around the complex, since it covers such a wide area. I have sent the coordinates to your unit so you can teleport there directly. I might also suggest leaving your robes behind when you go. It’s very difficult to keep them clean in that particular environment.”

“As long as the intimate mud massage specialist won’t be offended,” Dax said in a wry tone.

“Oh, _no_ , sir! Not in the least. Clothing is optional throughout the entire complex in any case, and our specialist is quite comfortable with the humanoid form.”

_’The humanoid form’?_ Jemma echoed through the link. _Makes you wonder exactly what we’re about to get into…_

Dax couldn’t disagree, but he was also curious. “Well, thank you for your assistance, Mr. Turzall. Like Jemma said, just use your best judgment and arrange whatever you think would be most interesting for us. I’m sure we’ll enjoy whatever you come up with. We’re very, uh, _open-minded_.”

“Very well, sir, I’ll see to your itinerary immediately. If there’s nothing else you need, I’ll leave you to get ready for your mud bath. Should you have need of me for anything, I am entirely at you disposal.”

“Thank you again,” Jemma said with a smile, and the concierge executed a smart little bow before letting himself out. Once he was gone, she blew out a breath. “Wow. This is unreal.”

“It’s something else, all right,” said Dax. “Nothing at all like Avanar. I bet the family would blow a collective gasket if they knew what we were getting up to,” he added, keeping it in character in case the room was under surveillance.

Jemma snorted. “I can only imagine. Come on, lover, I don’t want to be late. It wouldn’t do to keep the non-humanoid mud massage specialist waiting.”

She tweaked the belt of Dax’s robe with a mischievous smile, tugging it loose and causing the ridiculous terrycloth monstrosity to fall open at the front. He was half-hard already, and retaliated by tugging Jemma’s robe off to reveal the plump curves he loved so much.

“Beautiful,” he said softly, then in a stronger voice, “Clothing optional, eh? I’m looking forward to showing off that delectable body of yours to all and sundry for the next few days.”

She flushed and stripped the robe from his shoulders, tossing it aside. “You’re not so bad yourself. Now, stop making me blush like a schoolgirl and let’s go.”

Dax took her hand and followed her to the teleport pad where their destination was pre-entered, just as the concierge had promised. He ushered her onto the platform and started the transport sequence before joining her. A familiar tingle washed over his body, and a moment later, they were standing on an identical pad located at the edge of a large natural cavern.

The place was dimly illuminated by cool green light that threw deep shadows wherever rock formations jutted out from the floor and walls. The air smelled of sulfur.

“So I guess we’re not talking about volcanic mud carefully sterilized and poured in a nice big bathtub, then,” Jemma observed. “For that matter, where’s our specialist? I don’t see anyone here, humanoid or not.”

“I’m not sure,” Dax said, and called, “Hello! Anyone around? We’re here for our appointment!”

There was no answer. He looked around, and noticed a comms unit next to the transport pad. He toggled the switch. “Hello?” he repeated. “We’re here for our appointment, but there doesn’t seem to be anyone around.”

The unit crackled, a stream of gibberish emerging for a moment before the display screen popped up a red error message.

“Well,” he said, “it looks like we may be on our own for the moment. At least the basic concept seems obvious enough.” He gestured to the largest of a series of pits, bubbling gently and covered with a film of mist. “After you.”

Jemma gave a short laugh. “Sure. Why not?”

She accepted his steadying hand as she climbed down the tumble of natural stone blocks that led into the pit.

“Hot?” he asked, once she’d dipped a toe in.

“Warm,” she replied. “It’s perfect, actually.”

Dax smiled. “Well, this place does have a reputation as the best in the sector, broken comms units notwithstanding.”

He let her ease herself down into the creamy muck and followed once she’d pushed away from the bottom of the rough stone steps. The mud sucked at his lower legs as he entered the pit, and squished up around his cock and balls in a thoroughly distracting manner once he stepped off the final step. It was silky to the touch, rendering everything frictionless, and Jemma hummed in appreciation as she moved slowly to the center of the pool.

The stuff was more liquid than not, heavy enough to slow their movements but not so heavy as to mire them down. Again, Dax imagined that guests getting stuck in the mud bath and requiring assistance to extricate themselves would lead to the sort of bad reviews that a place like this could ill afford. Though the cavern and its contents appeared natural, he was willing to bet there was a fair amount of careful engineering involved behind the scenes.

Jemma had reached the deepest part of the pit and turned to face him, nearly losing her balance in the process. He reached out to steady her. The mud here reached her ribcage, a few inches below the swell of her generous breasts. Messy splatters marred her skin higher up. It only came up to his waist.

“Feels nice,” she said, stepping forward to meet him. She slid a hand under the surface and grasped his stiffening cock in a loose fist. He growled in appreciation, his hips thrusting forward into the slick space, squeezing mud out through her fingers.

“ _Very_ nice,” he said in a low, rough voice. Scooping up a handful of mud, he smeared it over her breast and leaned down to kiss her as he kneaded the slippery flesh. She melted beneath him, opening to the kiss and moaning into his mouth.

She continued to pump his cock with slow, easy strokes while he plundered her mouth, bending her backward and supporting her with a hand at the small of her back. He was just beginning to think that the absence of their massage specialist wasn’t such a bad thing after all when Jemma jerked and gasped into the kiss, a surge of panic flooding the link for a bare instant before she got herself under control.

“What is it?” he asked, and helped her get her feet under her so she could stand unaided.

She was looking down at the mud, scanning the surface as if trying to see what was underneath. “I thought I felt— _shit_!” She flinched again. “Something touched my leg. There’s something in here with us!”


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Here be tentacles.

THE MUD NEXT TO THEM heaved and subsided, the movement immediately throwing Dax’s brain into crisis mode. “Come on. Out!” He grabbed Jemma’s hand and headed for the steps as fast as he could… which, unfortunately, wasn’t very fast at all.

Jemma stumbled to a halt, her hand tugging against his. Her eyes were huge and panic was tugging at the link again even as Dax turned back to look at her. 

“Something’s got my leg,” she said tightly, and he instinctively solidified his muddy grip on her hand. “It’s strong. Feels like a—a snake or a—”

The tip of a slimy, mud-covered tentacle slid out of the muck and crept around Jemma’s waist like a boa constrictor capturing prey.

“—tentacle,” she finished lamely, a faint quaver audible in her voice.

Dax cursed himself for not having smuggled weapons in with them somehow, or _anything at all_ that he might have used for their defense. Jemma’s fingers gripped his like a vice. Behind them, the mud heaved again and a huge eye blinked open, just above the surface. Jemma twisted to follow his gaze and gasped.

The eye was strangely beautiful, flecked green and gold in the dim lighting. It blinked again, a slow, almost stately movement. Realization hit Dax all at once, and he took a deep breath. “Hang on. Non-humanoid, the concierge said. Jemma, can you sense that thing?”

The panic that had been thrumming through the bond receded a bit, and Jemma’s expression turned inward. “Oh!” she exclaimed a few moments later. “Oh… of course.”

“Sentient?” Dax asked.

There was another pause.

“Yes… yes, I think—“ she cut herself off, frowning. “Not telepathic. Empathic, maybe. It… doesn’t mean us any harm. It wants to… to…” The tip of the tentacle around her waist flicked up, brushing across her nipple, and Jemma sucked in a breath. “It wants to do things that will make us feel good. Things we might not even know we want.”

Dax nodded cautiously. “Are you all right?” he asked, even though the sense of her through the bond was morphing from fear into intrigued curiosity.

“Yes, I think so. I’m pretty sure that broken comms unit is its translation device. It was trying to communicate with us when we arrived, but with the circuit on the fritz, we were all just hearing gibberish. It probably didn’t even realize that we couldn’t understand what it was telling us. Anyway, I can sense that it’s reading me directly right now, and you can stay close to us and keep an eye on things, just in case.”

The giant eye blinked again, and Dax could swear it looked pleased. He felt most of his tension drain away, and met Jemma’s eyes with a hint of amusement as her growing excitement flowed through the bond. “So… tentacles, Jemma? _Really_?”

Jemma blushed again. “Shut up.”

“Have you got a stash of Pan-Asian porn hidden away somewhere that I should know about?”

“Shut _up_.”

He laughed aloud, and let Jemma’s fingers slide out of his. “Not judging. Watching—definitely. Jerking off—probably. But not judging.”

She glared at him for a moment before turning back to the eye that was watching them both with apparent interest. “Okay. I’m good now. Sorry about the misunderstanding. Let’s do this. So, am I supposed to do anything or—?”

Without warning, several more tentacles wrapped around her and dragged her into the mud.

* * *

Jemma let out a small shriek of surprise as her feet went out from under her and the mud closed over her shoulders, splattering up onto her cheeks and ears. The sudden loss of control sent a jolt through her belly, half fear and half aching arousal. She and Dax had nearly reached the steps where the mud was shallower when the alien caught up with them, but now the tentacles dragged her back into the center where it was deepest. 

The tentacles were everywhere—how many did the creature even _have_? Each one was studded with soft suckers, slender at the tip and growing thicker close to the alien’s body. They were pure muscle. Even a single coil around her arm or leg was enough to subdue her struggles. And she _was_ struggling—reveling in the growing feeling of helplessness that had always been her biggest sexual weakness. 

Her thrashing threatened to send her under the surface as she was pulled into the deep part of the pool on her back. Mud slopped over the lower half of her face and she spat it out, straining upward to breathe. Her arms were jerked behind her back and wrapped up tight, leaving her no leverage to move them. She was twisted around, more mud splashing over her face, and had a brief glance of Dax following after them, staying close by.

She sent reassurance through the bond—let Dax feel her excitement, the slow burn of desire settling low in her belly. Because the alien creature had already honed in effortlessly on Jemma’s deepest desires to be dominated and overpowered. She had a good idea of what was likely to be coming next, and an ever better idea of just how thoroughly it was likely to wreck her.

Dax could take her apart piece by piece—and did, on a fairly regular basis—but he could only take her one way at a time.

Tentacles spiraled up both of her legs and wrenched them apart. Mud oozed into her wide-open pussy, and she ground out a desperate curse. She could still feel the odd brush of the creature’s senses against her own as it read her wants and needs. With a moan, she closed her eyes and surrendered, body and mind, letting it see _everything_.

A slender tentacle stroked over her hair as if petting her, coating the sleek strands with mud and slime. The tip explored her face and she shivered at the forced intimacy—and at the globs of mud that dripped onto her eyelids… nose… lips. The creature traced her eyelashes with a delicate touch before moving to her left ear. It tickled at the shell, delving into the nooks and crannies, spiraling in to wriggle into her ear canal. 

She yelped in surprise at the unexpectedly intense sensation and instinctively tried to twist her head away. A thick tentacle probed blindly at her neck and wrapped around it once, twice, settling there with a heavy weight that forced her chin up and her head back further into the mud. The tiny tentacle was still wriggling inside her left ear canal, and mud flowed into the right one as she sank deeper. A moment later, a new tentacle tip slipped over her right earlobe and squished inside that ear as well. She cried out, nerves clamoring, the noise oddly attenuated with her hearing blocked. 

Her heart was beating like a drum as more tentacles slid possessively over and around her body. She felt Dax think a question at her and shuddered, letting him feel her need to be taken and utterly possessed. His answering swell of raw desire went straight to her aching clit. She writhed, subsiding with a whimper when the tentacle coiled around her neck gave a firm warning squeeze.

Suckers dragged across her painfully erect nipples and she stared wide-eyed at the stone ceiling, panting. More tiny feelers wound around her toes and probed at the spaces in between as she jerked helplessly, unable to escape.

Finally, when she thought she would go mad from the throbbing need growing between her legs, a thick, blunt tentacle thrust violently into her pussy with no warning. She _screamed_ at the perfect, punishing fullness of it, and a second large tentacle took the opportunity to plunge into her open mouth, gagging her mid-cry. It was salty, tasting of clay and seaweed.

Both of the tentacles pulled back, only to plunge in again mercilessly. The one fucking her mouth slid deep, pushing her head down into the mire until mud flowed over her eyes and cut off her sight. At the same time, a small feeler wriggled between her pussy lips to tickle at her clit with tiny, barely there touches. 

Another blunt handling tentacle circled her puckered asshole. She wriggled and moaned a desperate, muffled negative even as she thought, _Yes, yes, oh fuck, yes—make me take it. Make me take it all_. The one in her mouth shoved in deeper until it hit the back of her throat, choking off her cries. She sank another couple of centimeters under the onslaught, mud slopping over her cheeks and tickling the edges of her nostrils.

The tentacle probing at her asshole pressed and kneaded and circled endlessly until the tip popped inside, followed by _more_ , the thing’s penetration eased by the mixture of silky mud and its own natural slime.

Jemma’s eyes rolled back, the lids tightly closed under the press of mud above her. _Oh, Goddess,_ she thought. _Oh, fuck! I need—I need—_

The three tentacles backed off and thrust in again, sliding even deeper into her body than before.

* * *

Dax squeezed the base of his cock hard to hold off the orgasm that was trying to fight its way loose. He could feel Jemma slipping into that place in her mind where she sometimes went during intense sex, giving herself over to sensation with very little awareness of anything else.

She was already close to release, though frankly, it was pretty damned amazing that she’d lasted as long as she had. _He_ was close just from seeing her overpowered and taken so completely. It was a real pity that they were in mud which obscured his view of what was going on under the surface, but he could make an educated guess based on the unmistakeable rhythm of fucking coupled with the increasingly desperate sense of her through the bond.

It had taken weeks, after their bonding, until Dax could stop himself from coming untouched as soon as she reached orgasm. He’d gotten the knack of it eventually, but it was going to be a close-run thing as he imagined tentacles writhing around her and inside her just under the surface, while another tentacle face-fucked her slowly into the mud.

She was hovering on the brink, cursing and begging flowing through the bond as though it was being punched from her with every punishing thrust. _Oh, Goddess. Oh, fuck! I need—I need—_

As if in direct response to the plea, the tentacle fucking her mouth surged in. It forced her down until mud flowed over her nose and lips, cutting off her air. Utter shock flowed across the bond, and Jemma came _hard_ , jerking like a seizure victim beneath the surface and very nearly dragging Dax over the edge with her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm converting the ebook file of this story to HTML for AO3 posting. I expect to get one or more chapters up every weekend, and there are 14 chapters total.


	5. Chapter 5

FUCKING _HELL_. HE had _never_ felt her come like that before. Even now, she was twitching weakly under the mud, making little disturbances at the surface. A slow trail of bubbles floated up and popped, even as utter bliss flowed across the bond. A few moments later, the tentacles shifted. Jemma’s face broke the surface, a featureless, muddy mask. The tentacles continued to fuck her, slow and deep, not letting up. She snorted her nostrils clear of mud and sucked in air through the tiny openings.

Her body moved in waves under the continued onslaught, and matching waves of pleasure lapped at the edges of his mind. The tentacles pushed her inexorably toward a new peak as she lay limp in their embrace, no longer even pretending to fight the overwhelming assault.

She moaned around the tentacle filling her mouth as her second orgasm approached, and the sound cut off abruptly as the creature pushed her under the surface again. Something about the helpless little gurgle as her face disappeared from view twisted low in Dax’s belly, and he decided that he was no longer content to be a spectator. There was a brief sense of— _interest?_ —at the edge of his awareness. The brush of thought was completely different than Jemma’s familiar presence. Besides which, she was too busy coming at the moment to have been responsible, her second climax less violent than the first, but no less profound.

The sensation brushing against his mind had to be their ‘specialist,’ feeling Dax out to see what he desired. He let it, and watched intently as it dragged Jemma up for air, taking its sweet time with the process while she rode out the aftershocks of her pleasure.

Dax’s cock was aching, and hard enough to pound steel. Once Jemma was at the surface and breathing again, he carefully navigated the sea of tentacles surrounding her. The tentacled alien dove down to the bottom of the pool so he could step over and around the ones holding her, settling himself comfortably between her forcibly spread thighs.

The creature rearranged itself to accommodate him, and he ran his fingers over Jemma’s ass and pussy. She was being split open by two thick tentacles, still fucking her relentlessly with a syncopated, inescapable rhythm. Her muscles fluttered and clenched around the things, hopelessly overstimulated. A third, smaller tentacle worried endlessly at her clit. Dax slid a hand along the tentacle fucking her pussy and grasped it, pulling it out.

Jemma made a muffled, desperate noise at the loss, but Dax was already pressing inside the warm space. Mud squelched around them where they joined. He hissed as the tentacle fucking her ass brushed unerringly across his aching balls as he moved.

Beneath him, Jemma was a smooth, faceless clay sculpture brought to shuddering life. He ran his hands over the familiar shape of her under the surface, made unfamiliar by the web of writhing tentacles holding her trapped in helpless bondage.

All the sharp edges of her mind had been smoothed away, too, as if the mud covered them up as well as her body. Her pleasure swelled and ebbed in lazy waves, while Dax’s own pleasure threatened to swamp him. He gritted his teeth, determined to watch her come one more time before he followed, and gritted them harder when the end of a tentacle probed at his ass, teasing and stretching the ring of muscle it found there.

The burn when it pressed inside was muted by the almost complete lack of friction, but the starburst behind his closed eyelids when it dragged over his prostate was not. Abandoning the tattered remnants of his control, Dax fucked into his mate with everything he had, urged on by the faint whispers of _yes, yes, yes… oh, please, yes,_ filtering into his mind through the haze of his rampant desire.

Every time he pulled out, the movement drove the tentacle in his ass deeper, until he was crying out with every thrust. Jemma was a haze of defenseless lust inside his mind. On instinct, he reached a hand forward to close over the coils of tentacle wrapped around her throat, and pushed down. She mewled a pitiful, muffled protest at odds with the swell of ecstasy coming through the bond and disappeared under the mud.

He pushed her deeper, down and down until his arm had disappeared and the muck was lapping at his own chin, and held her there as she convulsed around his cock. This time, he followed her over the edge with a heartfelt groan of relief, emptying into her with spurt after spurt as the tentacle in his ass milked his balls completely dry.

When he next regained awareness, a tentacle around his chest was supporting him, keeping him from face-planting in the mud. Others were supporting Jemma’s head at the surface, her mouth a blank ‘o’ as she panted for breath. She was dazed and quiet through the link.

Dax blinked himself back into some kind of coherence. “We’ll need to look after her for a while, until she’s ready to come back,” he said to the tentacle creature, who was blinking at him from nearby with its huge, soulful eye. “You understand about that kind of thing, yes?”

The thing lifted a small feeler tentacle and brushed his cheek tenderly, leaving a smear of mud behind. It adjusted its grip on Jemma, cradling her in a supportive embrace and carrying her back toward the stone steps. Meanwhile, it nudged Dax’s shoulder, herding him in the same direction. He had to smile a bit at the beast’s brisk bossiness as it settled him on a comfortable part of the steps and then arranged Jemma _just so_ in his lap. 

The mud here was just deep enough that with Jemma resting face up in his embrace, she was still cocooned in the warm depths, only her nose and mouth breaking the surface. She hummed and burrowed a bit deeper in his hold, letting the mud slide up to tease at her lips and nostrils. He stroked her forehead and cheeks, letting his muddy fingers trace the bow of her lips within the slight depression formed by the mud’s surface tension. Contentment flooded the bond, and he basked in it.

Tentacles began a slow exploration and massage of both of their bodies. Jemma was already completely pliant, not an ounce of tension left in her anywhere. Dax, on the other hand, groaned when the tentacles found knot after knot and dug into them with unerring precision. Before long he was pretty much a puddle of goo himself, perfectly at home in the larger puddle of goo where he and Jemma both rested.

Some time later, Jemma groaned and stretched, her thoughts returning slowly from where they’d lain quiet. “Merciful Goddess,” she murmured, still sounding a bit slurred and groggy. “I’m going to be finding mud in odd places for weeks.”

She couldn’t hear him with her ears still submerged, so he sent amusement along the bond.

_Sonic shower_ , he suggested. _Well, okay. Water shower first. Then sonic._

“That sounds like something which would require movement on my part,” she said, not making any effort to do so. “Not sure I’m on board with that concept.”

Dax yawned and leaned back against the edge. He let his free hand run slowly along her body, under the mud. _We’ll rest a bit more, then. I don’t think our ninety minutes are up yet anyway, and we could both use it._

The tentacle creature petted Jemma’s forehead again, soothing.


	6. Chapter 6

AFTER TWO SEPARATE showers, during which Jemma draped her body over Dax’s in a thoroughly enjoyable way to help herself stay upright, the pair thanked their new friend as best they could with the translation unit still spouting gibberish. Then, they transported back to their lavish suite.

They were greeted by the sight of a lovely, hairless alien reclining artfully on their table, sushi arranged strategically on zir body to cover the areas that would be considered erogenous zones on most humanoids.

“Er, hello,” Dax said. “Did someone order room service while we were out?”

“Greetings, Honored Guests,” said the alien in an exotically accented contralto. “Turzall-Most-Respected thought that you might experience hunger after your appointment with Hannzi’pridaliatren in the mud pits. This one is here to serve you.”

Jemma recovered first. “Oh. Well, thank you. I’d say we were both pretty thoroughly sated in some ways by, uh, Hannzi’tradil…” She trailed off, stumbling over the tentacled creature’s name.

“Hannzi’pridaliatren,” the sushi model repeated helpfully.

“Right,” Jemma said. “Anyway—yes. I could definitely eat.”

“Excellent,” said their unexpected guest with every indication of pleasure. “Please, indulge yourselves. This one is entirely at your disposal.”

Jemma met Dax’s eyes for an instant—he felt her brief mental shrug. “Sushi, it is,” he agreed, and seated himself on one of the low cushions around the table. 

Finely decorated porcelain chopsticks nestled in cloth napkins folded into the shape of swans. He and Jemma each picked up a pair and examined the small feast before them. The alien appeared to be a member of an amphibious species, with webbing between zir fingers and toes. Zir skin was smooth and shone faintly in the soft light of the room’s lamps, mottled yellow and green in a pattern reminiscent of a Terran leopard or a Prythian _sharina_. 

To the human eye, zhe was beautifully formed, sleek and slender with large, dark eyes set in a fine-boned face. The suggestion of scales swept back from zir temples and culminated in a graceful crest at the top of the skull. Whoever had arranged the food on zir body had done so with an eye to artistry. Lines of small ngiri and maki rolls enhanced the being’s curves and flat planes of muscle. Paper-thin slices of sashimi curled over zir intimate areas, piquing the imagination about what might lie beneath.

Jemma settled in on the cushion across from Dax and delicately lifted a bite of maki from the sushi model’s flat stomach. “You must meet a lot of interesting people here. Do you enjoy your job?” she asked, and popped the little cylinder of rice and seaweed into her mouth.

The alien brightened. “This one is honored to find a place in such a prestigious operation. The people who visit are powerful and important, and their little casual touches as they take nourishment from this one’s body feel good.”

Dax marveled at the endless variation in outlook and sensibility that could be found in the universe. He would find such a life humiliating, not to mention boring as hell, but the sushi model’s enthusiasm was obvious. he arranged the chopsticks between his fingers and snagged a piece of nigiri with something less than Jemma’s deftness.

“I must say,” he offered, “I’ve never eaten from such an attractive place setting before. You are obviously very good at your chosen vocation.”

The alien preened, even as Jemma raised an eyebrow at him. _Flirt_ , she accused with a wash of humor.

It wasn’t a charge against which he could mount any sort of solid defense, so he just shrugged and flashed her a smile. She rolled her eyes and returned her attention to the alien, while Dax helped himself to another maki roll.

“I don’t believe I’ve ever met a member of your species before,” Jemma continued. “If it’s not considered prying, may I ask if you’re male, female, or other?”

The alien shivered a bit when Dax’s chopsticks brushed zir sleek skin accidentally while attempting to pick up a slice of pickled ginger. “This one is ovipositor,” zhe said a bit breathlessly.

Jemma frowned. “I’m afraid I don’t know what that means.”

“During spawning, the males swim alongside this one and trade touches until this one is stimulated to release unfertilized eggs into the mating pool. Then the males spar for the right to release sperm and fertilize the eggs.”

That explained the lack of either nipples or a navel, Dax supposed. Again, he was struck by the amazing spectrum of life across the known worlds.

“Do you prefer female pronouns, then?” Jemma asked.

“Pronouns in Standard are strange,” the alien said. “Female or neutrois is acceptable. This one is called S’rella.”

“Well, it’s nice to meet you, S’rella,” Dax said. “I’m Dax, and this is Jemma.”

“It is kind of you to speak with this one in such a way,” S’rella said. “If you have eaten your fill, Respected Guests, this one would be honored to pleasure you orally.” Zhe parted zir lips, and a long, prehensile tongue whipped out, only to disappear an instant later.

Dax blinked, and had to hold back a laugh when Jemma sent, _Well, that certainly escalated quickly_ , through the bond.

“I don’t think I’ve had enough of a chance to recover from your tentacled colleague’s ministrations to enjoy it properly, myself,” he said. “Though it’s certainly generous of you to offer. Jemma?”

“Same here, I’m sorry to say.” The alien seemed to droop a bit at her words, and Jemma continued, “However, we would be happy to pleasure you instead, if you’d like?”

S’rella looked rather shocked. “You would offer this one such a thing?”

Dax nodded, intrigued. “Of course. Why not? You’re a beautiful being, S’rella—kind and giving of yourself to strangers. We would both find it pleasureable to learn more about you and make you feel good.”

S’rella blinked large eyes. “This one… would like that very much.”

Jemma smiled. “Good. You’ll have to let us know if something isn’t working for you, though. All right?”

S’rella nodded, zir eyes wide. Dax and Jemma were still naked after their return from the mud pits. Jemma rose from her cushion and seated herself on the end of the table, urging S’rella up to recline against her, half in her lap. She caressed S’rella’s cheek with the tips of her fingers, and the alien’s eyes fluttered closed.

_I think zhe likes soft touches,_ Jemma sent.

That made sense. S’rella had mentioned the pleasure zhe got from accidental touches while the pleasure dome’s clients were eating from zir body, and it sounded like the males of zir species used teasing touches to stimulate zir in the mating pool.

Dax experimented with varying pressure and strokes. S’rella seemed most affected by a barely-there brush of his knuckles that Jemma would have found uncomfortably ticklish. Before long, though, zhe was writhing under their touch. Zir eyes flew open and zir lips parted. 

“Please,” zhe said in a breathy voice, looking up at Jemma. “Your mammary-breasts. May this one… taste?”

“That sounds delightful, S’rella,” Jemma told zir with a smile, and ran a thumb over zir lower lip. “Go right ahead.”

S’rella moaned and darted zir long tongue up to wrap around Jemma’s nipple, which was still swollen and dusky red from the delicious abuse dished out by their _intimate mud massage specialist_. She let out a low hum of appreciation. Dax felt her little quiver of pleasure through the bond.

“You’re just perfect, darling,” she said, running her fingers over S’rella’s temple and delicate ear-slits. “That feels wonderful.”

S’rella shuddered under their hands. Dax had been examining zir genital area curiously. It was as smooth and sleek as the rest of zir, except for a narrow slit running along its length. Now, the flesh pulsed under his light stroking, and a slender, curved shaft emerged from inside like a palm frond unfurling.

“May I touch?” he asked, intrigued by the graceful organ.

S’rella abandoned Jemma’s breast to answer, “Gently, please…” in a faint voice.

Following a hunch, Dax leaned forward to draw the tip of his tongue up the delicate length. It was salty with an exotic, alien undertone for which he had no direct comparison. S’rella arched in Jemma’s arms, unintelligible words pouring from zir lips in an unfamiliar language. Dax continued to tease the tender flesh until S’rella stiffened and a white, foamy mass of tiny eggs squeezed from the tip, dribbling down to pool at the juncture of zir thighs.

Dax realized that they had taken S’rella out of zir native element by pleasuring zir on dry land, and he hoped that zhe had still found the experience pleasurable. “Should we have done this in the tub?” he asked.

S’rella had gone limp in Jemma’s arms after zir release, and spoke without opening zir eyes. “It is of no matter,” zhe said in a dreamy voice. “These are pleasure eggs, not breeder eggs.”

Jemma ran a soft hand over S’rella’s forehead. “Would you like Dax to clean you up now?”

S’rella cracked open one eye. “When the eggs are not meant for spawning, usually the male will consume them after they are released.” Zhe hesitated. “But… sometimes…”

“Yes?” Jemma prompted.

Dax watched in fascination as a green flush rose over S’rella’s chest and face. “Sometimes the male will feed them to the ovipositor instead,” zhe said, sounding shy and uncertain. “It is… considered deviant.”

“But it’s something you would like to do?” Dax asked, to make certain.

The flush deepened. “This one… would like to try it, yes.”

“Well, then, S’rella,” Dax said, charmed, “I think you’d better open for me, and put that amazing tongue of yours to good use.”

Jemma smiled fondly at him, her affection warming the edge of his awareness, even as S’rella’s dark eyes went liquid and pleasure-drugged. Zhe meekly licked Dax’s fingers clean as he offered her the sticky mass of tiny eggs, until none were left.

Afterward, the three of them sprawled on the cushions together for a few minutes, until S’rella seemed to come back to zirself and sat up.

“This one has taken advantage,” zhe said, sounding suddenly worried. “This one should not have accepted pleasure from guests and given none in return.”

“Nonsense,” Dax said, still half-reclined against the base of the comfortable couch with Jemma curled up against his side. “We both enjoyed that immensely.”

“Absolutely,” Jemma agreed. “It was the perfect nightcap when we were too worn out to participate directly.” She grinned. “And the sushi wasn’t half-bad, either.”

S’rella relaxed visibly. “Oh. Good. You are both very kind, Honored Guests. If you have no further need of this one, then this one must return to duty.”

“Of course,” Jemma said. “Good night, S’rella.”

“Good night,” Dax echoed. “And, hey—if you get a chance, you might let someone know that the translation unit in the mud pits is malfunctioning. I expect they’ll want to fix it as soon as possible.”

S’rella inclined zir head. “This one will pass on the message immediately, Honored Guests. May your sleep be undisturbed, and may your dreams soar free.”

When S’rella had seen zirself out, Jemma let her head fall back on Dax’s shoulder. _There’s an aspect of groveling servitude in this place that I don’t much like_ , she thought at him.

_Agreed_ , he sent back. _I suppose it could just be a cultural thing, but…_

_Yeah, it might be. I want to try something, though_ , she thought. _Play along_.

Before he could convey a question in return, she said aloud, “You know, I envy S’rella, really.”

Dax frowned. “You envy a pleasure dome employee who has to let complete strangers eat off zir body?”

“Not that part,” Jemma said irritably. “I envy zir happiness. I mean, the poor sod probably doesn’t have two credits to rub together, but zhe was still _happy_. That’s _real_ happiness, Dax—the kind we’ll never have as long as we’re under the family’s boot heel, back on Avanar.”

_Smart_ , he thought. Aloud, he said, “I dunno, Jemma. In my experience, with enough money, you can buy just about anything you damn well please. Why should happiness be any different?”

He wondered if anyone with “happiness” to sell was listening to them.


	7. Chapter 7

THE FOLLOWING DAY, after sleeping late and indulging in a heavy breakfast that arrived on plates rather than the lithe body of an amphibious alien, Jemma checked their terminal to see what the concierge had arranged for them.

“Massage again. Deep tissue relaxation and pleasure-center stimulation.” She smirked and threw him a look. “No mention of mud. Or tentacles. It’s scheduled for a four-hour block, though. That seems… long.”

Dax shrugged, figuring that if it got too boring, he could always nap some more.

It wasn’t boring, as it turned out.

In fact, it was a little bit terrifying.

“What do you mean, you want to block our voluntary nervous systems?” he demanded.

The blond-haired boy-toy of a masseuse looked taken aback, as if he was unused to people protesting the idea. “It’s merely a method for assuring total relaxation during the session, sir,” he said, his tone placating. “Otherwise, your muscles may tense unconsciously against the deep tissue techniques, resulting in soreness and discomfort afterward.”

Dax drew breath to argue further, but a familiar whisper in his mind stopped him.

_Under the radar, remember, love?_ Jemma prodded.

He ground his teeth, and let the breath out slowly. “Fine,” he said. “I’m sure you do this to guests all the time.”

“Indeed, sir,” the boy-toy said, obviously relieved to avoid further confrontation. “And, if you don’t mind me saying so, sir—you do seem rather tense.”

_You have no idea, Blondie_ , he thought silently, and forced himself to unclench his jaw.

“How do you want us?” Jemma asked, drawing the massage therapist’s attention.

“Here, allow me.” The man helped Jemma remove her robe, while his female colleague took Dax’s. A few moments later, they were laid out face-down on matching massage tables, with electrodes attached to their temples and at various trigger points on their bodies.

“I’m going to turn on the machine now,” the male masseuse warned them. “I’d tell you both to relax, but honestly, that won’t be an issue for you.”

The machine hummed, and warmth tingled along Dax’s nerves. His arms and legs turned to gelatin, and the habitual tension he carried in his back unraveled so quickly that it made him dizzy.

_Whoa_ , Jemma thought from the table beside him, as the same thing happened to her.

Frankly, it freaked him the _fuck out_ not to have control of his body. He latched onto Jemma’s calm, knowing that his fear was irrational.

_Guilty conscience_ , Jemma suggested. _Trust me, lover… if they had any reason to suspect that we aren’t who we’re supposed to be, this wouldn’t be their preferred method of dealing with us._

With little other choice in the matter, Dax lay limp on the table and tried not to let his restlessly circling thoughts get the better of him. The female masseuse’s small hands came to rest on him, kneading warmth into his heavy, useless muscles. As the boy-toy had warned, he had no defense against her as she dug deep, loosening muscles and fascia right down to the bone. 

Jemma’s mental hum of pleasure as Blondie did the same to her calmed him somewhat. A few minutes passed, and a new whine of machinery powering up emanated from the device they were hooked to.

_Oh, here we go,_ Jemma thought, and a moment later, Dax also felt the strange tingle of sensation as the machine mapped his synapses and started sending stimulation directly to his pleasure centers. The same nerve blocks that kept his body still and relaxed also kept him from getting hard, but the swell of liquid ecstasy being forced into his brain was nonetheless profoundly sexual.

It didn’t help when the woman working him over dug strong fingers into his glutes and the muscles of his inner thighs, running her thumbs along the crease of his buttocks as she spread him open, the touch trailing fire in its wake. Jemma was receiving the same kind of treatment—he could feel her mind growing hazy as she surrendered to the pleasure and let it wash over her.

Though he wasn’t exactly the jealous type, Dax still felt the urge to leap off the table, drag Jemma away from the boy-toy like some kind of a caveman, and fuck her up against the nearest wall until all memory of Blondie’s hands on her had been erased.

_Rawr_ , she thought at him, a hint of fond amusement emerging from beneath the rush of pleasure. _Something else to look forward to, lover._

Before long, Dax’s thoughts were overwhelmed by the growing swell of euphoria delivered by the machine. The electrical impulses zapping straight into his brain were compounded by the physical stimulation of the therapist’s oiled hands sliding over his skin. If he’d had control of his body he would have been writhing, struggling—possibly hyperventilating. He didn’t have control, though. There was nothing to do but lie there and take it. 

Beads of sweat popped out of his skin, which alternated hot and cold. He knew the situation should have been euphoric—certainly Jemma was finding it so—but something about it threatened him in a way he didn’t truly understand, on a very deep level. 

_Easy, Dax,_ Jemma soothed through the bond. _It’s just your body. It’s just pleasure. We can still speak, you know. You can stop them if you need to._

His fast-beating heart slowed as the truth of her words penetrated his mind. Of course, she was right. He wasn’t _actually_ powerless, despite appearances—no more than Jemma was when they played together. A single word from her could always stop the game.

A single word could stop this, too—but freaking out on the staff right now would not help them reach their goal. Drawing attention was _not_ something they needed.

_Lie back and think of Earth?_ Jemma offered, and the familiar wry tone helped him calm his worry to manageable levels, even as the waves of never-ending pleasure grew to _un_ manageable levels. He would never have Jemma’s talent for graceful surrender, but he retreated deeper into his mind and tried not to lose himself completely.


	8. Chapter 8

JEMMA KNEW DAX was struggling, but she also knew how stubborn he was. She sent him what reassurance she could, and let the pulses of ever-growing bliss skim across her awareness. It was a deliciously diabolical form of torture—the artificial stimulation would never crest and release into orgasm. It would just continue on and on, for as long as the therapists wished it to continue.

The ability to physically brace against the assault had been taken from them, and the masseuses’ touch forced them to maintain focus on their bodies. Jemma actually rather adored it. As, she was sure, did most of the spa’s clients. She was not, however, unaware of the danger it could potentially pose to them personally, given why they were here.

So she continued to hold her awareness down deep, under the roiling sea of pleasure. And she was not surprised when, after some considerable amount of time, the therapists began to gently question the two of them—first about comfortable, easy subjects like how they were enjoying their stay so far. But then—

“Tell me,” asked the man Dax mentally insisted on calling _Blondie_ , “What are you hoping to get out of your experience here on Pendris? What would you like most?”

This was it, Jemma knew. The question _could_ have been innocent, but even high on pleasure after what had probably been hours of stimulation by now, Jemma could tell that it wasn’t. Being a telepath had definite advantages sometimes.

“Right now, coming would be good,” Dax growled, and his masseuse laughed a bell-like laugh as if his answer was the wittiest thing she’d ever heard. Jemma mentally rolled her eyes at him, but didn’t say anything through the bond—she knew full well how difficult he was finding this.

Letting her voice emerge breathless and dreamy, she said, “I just want to be happy, you know? I want to find real happiness. Why can’t I be _happy_?”

It worked. She felt the significant look the two therapists threw each other even though she couldn’t see it. How many of the spa’s clients came here seeking just that, trying to fill the holes in their lives with sexual pleasure? And how many left in the thrall of Jade Dream, instead?

But _that_ was their secret weapon in this mission. She and Dax had each other. They were already happy. And when the session eventually ended and Dax made good on his silent promise to fuck her against the nearest wall in their lavish room until they both came with matching hoarse shouts of relief, she was even happier. They fell into bed together afterward, as exhausted as if they’d been running and fighting all day instead of lying limp on a table. 

Before long, they were both fast asleep.

* * *

When Dax woke the next morning, it was to the tingling sparks of close-range site-to-site matter transport.

“Whu—?” he said, scrambling upright in time to see the sheets collapse over the space where Jemma had been, moments before. “Shit!”

He stared stupidly at the empty space for the span of several heartbeats before his mind caught up. Panicking, he stumbled out of bed and lunged for the computer terminal, intent on calling for help. A message greeted him, flashing red on the screen.

YOUR PARTNER HAS BEEN TAKEN AS PART OF A STAGED ABDUCTION AND RESCUE GAME. YOU MUST FIND HER USING THE CLUES YOU ARE GIVEN AND RESCUE HER FROM HER PREDICAMENT. THIS PREDICAMENT IS RATHER URGENTLY TIME SENSITIVE. ARE YOU READY FOR YOUR FIRST CLUE?

The message cut through Dax’s alarm enough that he finally thought to feel for the bond. After a few seconds of deep breathing, he became aware of the faint sense of her at the other end. She was shielding. 

_”WHERE ARE YOU?_ ” he sent, as loudly as he could.

There was a brief sense of startlement, as if she were focused on something else and he had surprised her.

_Dax! I don’t know where I am… I’m sorry._

_It’s all right,_ he conveyed, though it was really anything but. _Just hang on, okay? I’ll find you._

_You, uh, you might want to hurry. They’re shackling me to this… thing…_ There was a pause, followed by a cold spike of shock. _Oh, shit—_

The contact broke off abruptly. She was shielding again, knowing that the link would only distract him since she couldn’t give him any useful information. Despite the knowledge that the whole thing was staged, Dax couldn’t slow the pounding of his heart. He turned his attention back to the terminal.

ARE YOU READY FOR YOUR FIRST CLUE?

“ _Yes_! Give me the damned clue!”

He clenched the edge of the table, waiting.

YOUR PARTNER DISCOVERED AN UNEXPECTED NEW KINK ON YOUR FIRST DAY HERE. HER ABDUCTORS ARE ASSISTING HER IN EXPLORING THAT NEW KINK MORE FULLY. MORE… DEEPLY, ONE MIGHT SAY. 

Dax cast his mind back to their first day here. The mud pits. Tentacles? No, she’d more or less admitted that her tentacle kink wasn’t new. He remembered the sounds she’d made as the creature pressed her under the surface, forcing her to ride out her orgasms without air. Remembered her desperate surge of animal lust at the complete loss of control.

Breath play. Fuck. That could be serious.

“It’s breath play,” he said aloud. “She got off on being forcibly submerged and denied air.”

The computer beeped.

CORRECT.

He waited, still holding the table edge in a white-knuckled grip. “Come _on_!” he snapped.

The computer beeped again.

YOUR TELEPORT PAD HAS BEEN PRE-PROGRAMMED WITH SEVERAL POSSIBLE SITES WHERE SUCH A SCENARIO MIGHT TAKE PLACE. YOU MUST CHOOSE.

The teleport pad lit up obligingly, and Dax ran to the controls and scrolled through the display. Pool room. Mud pits. Cove. Dungeon. Jacuzzi room.

He stared at the choices. The pool room and the jacuzzi room were public. He didn’t think they’d play such a game where others were coming and going constantly. The mud pits would be too repetitive. This place was all about novel, one-of-a-kind experiences. That left the cove and the dungeon. _They’re shackling me to this… thing,_ she’d said.

Shackles. On a hunch, he entered the dungeon as his destination and leapt up on the pad, not even bothering to grab his robe first.

* * *

He materialized a moment later in a hip-deep pool, rather than on a pad. He spun around in surprise, the water dragging at his body and threatening his balance. A few meters away, a heavy metal arm extended from the edge of the pool into the water, and Dax caught his breath.

The arm supported a sturdy platform at the end. Jemma lay on her back, shackled tightly to the thing, arms bent behind her and presumably fastened to the bottom of the platform; legs strapped into a sort of stirrup arrangement like one might find at a doctor’s office, keeping her thighs spread open in a thoroughly suggestive manner.

Her head and shoulders were completely submerged. A slow stream of bubbles broke the surface above the place where her face would be. The points of her breasts peeked up out of the water, making little ripples as she struggled against the unforgiving bondage. He plunged forward through the pool, crossing the distance between them.

A flash of light and movement on the gray stone wall beyond the metal arm caught his attention. Two large displays were mounted there. A timer labeled “DROWN” was slowly counting down. When it reached zero, there was a buzz and a loud clank.


	9. Chapter 9

THE ARM ROSE SLOWLY until Jemma’s nose and mouth broke the surface— _barely_. She spat water and dragged in air while a second timer labeled “BREATHE” counted down six seconds. Another buzz, another clank, and the heavy arm dropped, plunging her under the water again. Sixteen seconds appeared on the “DROWN” clock, and started counting down.

_It’s all right,_ Jemma sent through the bond, though there was a faintly hysterical note to it. _I’m all right, but I’m pretty sure it’s going for longer each time. When it started, it was only dunking me for a couple of seconds before letting me up._

_Okay_ , he told her. _Okay, just hang in there while I figure out how to stop it_.

_Don’t have much choice, do I_? she thought, unable to hide her worry through the bond.

A message flashed below the timers. “THIS SCENARIO IS BEING CAREFULLY MONITORED BY TRAINED PERSONNEL WITH MEDICAL SCANNING EQUIPMENT. INSTANTANEOUS EMERGENCY BEAM-OUT IS ON FULL STANDBY. THE SUBJECT IS UNAWARE OF THESE FACTS.”

Relief washed over him. _Well, I guess the subject is aware now, since she’s a telepath_ , he thought through the link, and received a flash of amusement and lessening of Jemma’s nervousness in return.

He approached the platform, examining the arm and the padded shackles closely for any kind of an unlocking mechanism, but the whole thing was smooth and free of any sort of controls or mechanical locks. He grabbed a quick breath and ducked under the water to examine the shackles holding her wrists, only to find the same thing. Even her head was fastened down to the platform with a padded metal arch across her forehead.

Right now, Jemma wasn’t going anywhere.

The arm rose. Dax surfaced with it, shaking the water from his eyes as Jemma sucked in three deep breaths. The “BREATHE” timer hit zero far too quickly and the arm plunged her down again, for eighteen seconds this time. He looked around the large room. There was no sign of a control panel, or a computer terminal, or _anything_ except the pool, the arm, the timers, and the small message screen below them, now unhelpfully blank.

No clues at all… unless you counted the suggestive way that Jemma was bound, with the tips of her breasts jutting out of the water and her sex on full display. His gaze caught for a moment. Her legs were dry, held above the water level, but her pussy was dripping. With arousal?

_Well,_ she thought at him, _it_ is _kind of hot, don’t you think? And it’s not like they’re in the habit of_ actually _drowning their rich guests, right?_

Something slotted into place. “Oh,” he said blankly. “Of course. I have to make her come, is that it? Is that the game?” he asked the empty room.

“HER RELEASE WILL EARN HER RELEASE,” flashed the message screen.

He took a second to parse that and let out a breath of relief. This, he could do. Without thinking, he ran a finger up the seam of Jemma’s exposed pussy lips, gathering the slickness there. An explosion of bubbles erupted from the end of the arm.

His eyes flew to the “DROWN” timer, which still had seven seconds on it. _Shit_ , he told her. _Sorry…_

_Fucking hell_ , she managed, and a flood of excitement surged through the link. Jemma squirmed against the bonds, fighting empty lungs, and panted desperately for air once the machine had dragged her laboriously back up to the surface. The clock reset with 20 seconds and she slipped under again mid-gasp, before she’d had a proper chance to get her breath back.

_How far do you want to push this_? he asked, her growing arousal making his own heart beat faster.

_How far do_ you _want to push it_? she shot back. He answered by plunging two fingers into her. _Prophet-fucking, cunt-licking son of a whore_ , she cursed, even as another plume of bubbles erupted—thankfully smaller this time. _Goddess, how I love you, you evil bastard…_

_Better watch that attitude_ , he warned, laughter in his mental tone. _Not to mention your air._

_Oh, yeah? Or else… what?_

He curled his fingers and rubbed firmly over her G-spot by way of response.

* * *

The water in the pool was blood-warm and saline. It rushed up Jemma’s nose and flooded her sinuses every time she was plunged beneath the surface, but it didn’t burn too much going in, thankfully. She pursed her lips to hold in the half-breath she had left, her heart beating a staccato rhythm against her ribs as Dax slid his fingers back and forth over the front wall of her passage. The sensation, coupled with her helplessness and utter vulnerability, threatened to send her over the edge before they’d even properly begun the game.

Dax must sensed how much she wanted to keep going with the scenario, because he pulled his fingers free and left her tingling and shaking, on the verge of orgasm. A moment later, the arm whirred into motion, its gradual ascent by far the most tortuous part of the ordeal. Her nose and mouth broke the surface and she snorted out a great gush of water before grabbing the three hurried lungfuls of air that she knew was all she’d get.

The arm dropped abruptly, in ironic counterpoint to the painfully slow way in which it rose. Water flooded her airways again, less shocking now than it had been the first several times. Jemma braced herself not to gasp in reaction to Dax’s next touch. Water currents swirled around her. He was moving, coming closer to her head.

Oh… prophets bless him, he was going to draw it out.

Fingers pinched her nipple without warning—not being gentle about it—and she quivered. He tweaked and plucked at first one pebbled peak, and then the other. The seconds ticked by and her lungs began to protest, until familiar lips and teeth closed around her right breast. Air was momentarily forgotten as Dax pulled at the nipple with deep suction that seemed to tug directly at her sex. Her eyes slid closed and a slow trail of bubbles trickled from her nose. Then there was a clank, and she was slowly brought up for another abbreviated and deliciously inadequate taste of air.

This time, Dax placed a firm hand over her windpipe as she gasped in her final allotted breath. When the arm fell, it felt like he was plunging her down by the throat and pinning her there, holding her in place while he went back to torturing her breasts and nipples. She felt her grip on control began to slip, and with a slow exhale of bubbles, she let it slide away completely.

* * *

Dax felt Jemma descend into full submission. Her mind went soft and blank, empty of everything except the desire for her next lungful of air and the feeling of his hands on her skin. She was helpless to move or reach the oxygen she needed to live, giving herself over to the things she couldn’t control. As always, it turned him on as nothing else did. Her mental surrender had never before been as complete as the two times someone else had controlled her breathing. Goddess help him, he was as hopelessly aroused by it as she was, despite the sense of peril.

Of course, there was no real peril here, and that knowledge allowed him to push her more ruthlessly than he ever would have considered, otherwise. He continued to tease at her breasts and sex, never letting her get her too close to release. Meanwhile, the length of time the arm kept her under was increasing by two seconds with each successive dunking, while her time to breathe and recover between bouts stayed the same.

The “DROWN” timer was set for twenty-eight seconds when she first started begging for mercy as she was dragged under, the words disappearing into bubbles.

“Oh, Goddess, no—”

Thirty seconds.

“I can’t, _please_ —”

Thirty-two seconds.

“No more, fuck— _please_! I’ll do _anything_ —”

Reassured by the flares of overwhelming arousal through the bond each time the water washed over her face, drowning out her increasingly desperate pleas, he ignored the words and continued to play with her.

With thirty-six seconds on the timer, he traced her lips with two fingers. She rooted blindly toward them as much as the metal strap holding her head in place would allow, until he eventually plunged them into the warm cavern of her mouth as the final seconds ticked down. Water flowed in around his fingers, and when she eventually surfaced, she had to cough it out in a gushing flood before she could breathe.

The sense of her was starting to grow dizzy across the bond as she writhed through the next dunking—lips pursed tightly around three of his fingers this time, even as he tugged her nipples straight up away from her body with his free hand and let them pop free, first one and then the other, making her breasts bounce. Her thoughts were a whirlpool of _Please, please, please, I can’t, I can’t, oh, please make me, make me take it, don’t stop—_

It was time, Dax knew. When the arm pulled her up, she coughed out water and wheezed in three great breaths. The last was cut off abruptly as she plunged down again. There were forty seconds on the timer—more than enough time to make her come, given the state she was in. Taking pity on her, he returned to her sex, completely soaked now with her own juices. He coated his fingers generously with the slickness so he could screw one into her ass and two into her pussy. With each stroke in and out, his thumb rubbed over her clit, which was erect and peeking out of its hood.

She jerked, barely holding onto her air, pinned in place underwater as he finger-fucked her with slow deliberation. He kept careful tabs on her through the bond, and drew it out as long as he dared before tipping her over the edge into a crashing orgasm as the final seconds counted down.


	10. Chapter 10

WHEN HER CONVULSIONS faded and the timer showed zero, there was a loud click and the shackles fall away. Jemma slid off the dunking arm head-first, a slow trail of bubbles rising from her mouth. Dax caught her hastily and lifted her head above the surface, where she coughed and choked and breathed and breathed some more.

“Wow,” he said when she had recovered her breath, feeling languid afterglow flood her body even as his cock throbbed with need.

She nodded weakly. “Goddess, that was one of the most amazing things I’ve ever experienced,” she confirmed when she could talk again, her throat raspy from taking on water. “I’m completely wrecked, but I still don’t want it to be over. Here—let me…”

Dax’s cock was bobbing at the waterline. Jemma fell to her knees, water splashing over her chin. Her lips stretched around the head, warm and wet and perfect. Sensing what she wanted, he twisted a firm hand in her soaking mass of dark hair and fed his hard length to her a centimeter at a time, giving her only a few moments to relax her jaw and adjust to the intrusion before fucking into her throat with slow, deep movements.

When he was close, he adjusted the angle, widening his stance and pressing her down the last few inches until the water closed over her face. The sight of her kneeling there under the surface, looking up at him with unfocused eyes while he fucked her mouth was too much. His balls tightened almost painfully, and he came down her throat with a hoarse cry.

Come pulsed into her flooded mouth until it flowed out of the corners of her lips, spreading through the clear water in filmy white tendrils. Her eyes had slipped closed as she struggled to take it all. He pulled his softening cock free with a hiss as her lips dragged across oversensitive flesh. 

His hand was still twisted in her heavy black hair—still holding her in place just below the surface. Dax fell to his knees, using the grip to arch her head back. He took a deep breath and leaned into the water to kiss her. She opened for him just as she always did, water and bitter, salty come flowing from her mouth into his—like kissing a mermaid.

Her hands came up to cradle his face. Bubbles rose around them as their air trickled away. Dax’s lungs began to burn, and he marveled—Jemma had been under far longer than he had, but she was still holding him in place as if she intended to kiss him like this forever.

When he finally had to pull away, he did so reluctantly. He held Jemma beneath the surface for a final precious few seconds, looking down at her and drinking in the sight. She looked back with wide eyes, her chest and stomach fluttering as her lungs finally demanded an end to things.

Dax lifted her up and held her as she sucked in great lungfuls of air, leaning limply into his embrace.

“Need t’ sleep now,” she slurred with a voice roughened by water and sex. “Don’ leave me?”

“Never,” Dax said. “ _Never_ , Jemma.”

A moment later, he felt the tingle of transport and they were back in their room, sprawled on the bed in a sopping wet, fucked-out heap.

“There’s water in my ears,” Jemma rasped, and promptly fell asleep.

* * *

She slept in Dax’s arms for several hours, and he dozed with her toward the end. The tantalizing aroma of perfectly cooked steak brought him back to awareness as the suns were going down outside the massive window that made up one wall of the sleeping area. Jemma shifted and stretched in his embrace, breathing in the enticing smell. He let himself appreciate her soft curves pressing against the hard planes of his chest, and the sleepy brush of her thoughts against his own.

As it always did, the feelings flowed down to the flesh between his legs, making it swell and ache in a way that was… hang on. That wasn’t right. He frowned and flicked the sheets back with one hand so he could look down at himself.

“Um…” he said, taking in the unexpected sight.

Jemma came awake and sat abruptly upright, gaping down at her body as well.

“Would it be a stupid question to ask why I suddenly have a cock?” she asked.

“Only if it’s a stupid question to ask why I have a pussy,” Dax replied. Unable to help himself, he cupped a hand over the soft, aching flesh where his dick should have been, and hissed out a breath. “Dream, do you think?”

Jemma pinched his nipple, which was at least still attached to a smooth pectoral rather than a soft breast. “Ah!” he gasped.

“Not a dream,” Jemma decided. “Hang on a second.”

Dax waited while she closed her eyes, focusing inward for long moments. “Virtual Reality, I’m pretty sure,” she said after a considerable pause. “Better than any I’ve ever run across before, though. Wow.”

Dax relaxed a little, curiosity and intrigue outstripping his alarm. “VR? Seriously? I didn’t know the tech had come this far. Though I suppose if anyplace would have it, it would be Pendris. Huh. So… steak followed by experimental gender-swapped sex, then?”

Jemma’s stomach rumbled. “Oh, hell yes. On both counts.” She frowned and tipped her head to one side, shaking it. “Just let me get the damned water out of my left ear first.”


	11. Chapter 11

JEMMA CHEWED AND SWALLOWED another bite of the sinfully tender and delicious steak on her plate, holding back an obscene moan of pleasure with some difficulty. The sushi had been good, but the steak was _divine_. Paired with some sort of delicately seasoned ground tuber and a pile of succulent roast vegetables, it was easily the best food she’d had in years. The addition of the wine they’d paired with it was just the icing on the cake.

Across from her, Dax shifted restlessly in his chair, not for the first time since they’d started eating. She grinned evilly. “Problem, lover?” she asked, all innocence.

“I’m _leaking_ ,” he replied through gritted teeth. “It’s embarrassing.”

She had to shield her amusement, not wanting to hurt his feelings. “Yes, well, I’m hard enough to drive rivets through a titanium bulkhead over here, but you don’t hear me complaining about it.”

Dax stared at her. “You’re not helping. You do realize that, right?”

The laugh slipped past her control despite her best efforts. “Sorry. Now you know how I feel a lot of the time. And at least a damp spot is easier to hide than a great big steel rod jutting out from between your legs.”

He grumbled something under his breath; Jemma let it go and went back to her steak. A few moments later, an idea struck her and she froze, the next bite poised a centimeter from her lips.

“Something wrong?” Dax asked. “Other than the obvious?”

She frowned, staring at the morsel on her fork mistrustfully. “I just had a horrible thought. What if the steak is VR, too?”

Now it was his turn to laugh. “Then we’ll still have had an amazing meal—sort of—and the life of some poor, innocent cow-equivalent somewhere on the planet will have been spared. Now hurry up and finish your not-steak, so I can stop soaking the upholstery on this perfectly nice chair.”

* * *

Just to be contrary, she made him wait until she’d finished not only her entree, but the little crystal flute of sinfully rich dessert as well. Honestly, though—while it was certainly an interesting development, swapping sex organs probably didn’t hold quite the same intrigue for the two of them that it would have for most couples.

She and Dax felt a great deal of what the other felt, every single time they had sex. It was one of the blessings of the mating bond, for all that Dax had used to curse it when they were first starting out, and her release unfailingly triggered his own whether he was ready or not. 

Still, she knew how it felt for him to sink into her slick heat. Just as he knew how pleasure skittered along her nerves when his fingers brushed her wet folds. He was a man, though, bless him—with a man’s inherent fascination with all things sexual. So perhaps it was no surprise that his impatience was thrumming through the bond now as she teased him by drawing out the meal.

An idea struck her as she licked the last trace of sweet vanilla and _curachii_ -laced cream from her spoon, making a production of it. Curling her lips into a devilish smile, she reached inside and raised her mental shields, dimming the link between them to a bare flicker. 

Dax frowned. “Everything all right, Jemma?”

She let the smile grow wider. “Oh, yes. Just eliminating distractions.”

He face cleared in understanding. Without the feedback from the bond, they would feel only their own responses… or, at least, what the VR was telling them were their own responses. “Getting into the spirit of things after all, Miss _felt-it-all-before_?”

Jemma pushed her plate back and stood, fighting the urge to adjust herself to quell the ache of her untouched erection. “Maybe I am, at that. It occurs to me that if we’re going to play at role reversal, we should do it properly.”

The look of interest on Dax’s face emboldened her as she strode around and crowded into his space, looming over him as he sat in the chair. “Oh yes?” he asked. “And just what would that entail?”

She used her legs to shove his knees apart, and reached down to cup his VR pussy in her hand as if she owned it. He sucked in a breath as she curled her fingers, delving inside to coat them with the evidence of his arousal.

“Well, well,” she said, not answering him directly. “You _have_ been making a mess over here, haven’t you?”

She watched his pupils dilate, even as lazy amusement lurked in his eyes. “I guess I have been, at that, Ma’am,” he answered easily. “I’m _ever_ so sorry, though.”

“And so you should be,” she said in a severe tone, aware that her own eyes were twinkling. “Now clean this up, before the service-bots find it and know _exactly_ what you’ve been up to. Can you imagine?”

His lips twitched as he tried to hold in his smile. Before he could break character, she cupped his chin with her clean hand and slid fingers coated with his own slickness between his lips. He laved her flesh and gave a leisurely suck that traveled straight through her body to the erect cock between her legs. Her breathing went ragged with surprise, and she dragged her self-control together with some difficulty.

“Is that better?” he asked after pulling away, all innocence.

“It’s a start,” she managed. “Now, get on the bed. Lie on your back, and spread your legs.”

The corners of Dax’s lips twitched again. “What, no foreplay?” he asked, giving her a patently fake pout.

Jemma glowered at him, or tried to. “Did I say _no foreplay_? Now stow the backtalk, soldier, unless you want me to turn that ass bright red before I take possession of what’s rightfully mine.”

“Yes, _Ma’am_ ,” Dax said, the grin breaking through for a moment. He was humoring her, and she knew it. But he rose and crossed to lie on the bed as directed, so she decided to let it pass.

Once he was settled, she turned her back on him and went to inspect the contents of the ridiculous walk-in closet, two entire walls of which were devoted to sex toys. Picking a set of four leather cuffs attached to sturdy chains, along with a selection of other sundries, she returned to the bed.

“Wrists,” she snapped, and efficiently buckled on the leather restraints. The chains each had a quick-release snap at the end, and were the perfect length to reach the sturdy bolts embedded in the bed frame. “Ankles,” she commanded, once his arms were bound.

A few moments later, he lay spread-eagled before her, no slack in the bonds. His head and shoulders were slightly inclined, propped on a pile of pillows. His arms and legs were stretched toward the corners of the bed, the muscles corded as he wriggled a bit to test the range of movement. There really wasn’t any, and he gave a faint huff.

“So,” he asked conversationally, “now that you’ve got me, whatever are you going to do with me?”

She only raised an eyebrow. “Why… whatever I please, of course. I would have thought that part was obvious.” She could feel him testing the edges of her shields, and smiled as he tried and failed to read her intentions. Just to drive the point home, she sat down next to him and slipped a blindfold over his eyes. “No peeking.”

Once his vision was obscured, she quietly picked up a pair of nipple clamps. His nipples hardened instantly when she brushed the backs of her knuckles across them. The first clamp _snicked_ into place, and he arched off the bed with a curse, jerking against the cuffs buckled at his wrists.

“Fucking _prophets_!” he growled, and punctuated the blasphemy with a pained grunt as the second clamp closed around his other nipple.

“I do have a gag if you need one,” Jemma offered helpfully, and gave the tiny chain connecting the two clamps a light tug.

Dax hissed in a breath, but didn’t reply, so Jemma lowered her shields just long enough to determine that his sex was still swollen and throbbing with need.

“I’m good, thanks,” he ground out between clenched teeth.

“Excellent answer,” she approved, still playing with the fine metal links woven between her fingers.

After a few moments, the initial sharp pain would fade into aching numbness, she knew. She leaned down to tease the swollen peaks with her tongue, enjoying the way Dax writhed helplessly beneath her, unable to escape the gentle torture. When his attempts to get away quieted to a faint shiver as she flicked the aching points with the very tip of her tongue, she let the chain drop from her grasp and straddled his torso.

Giving into her curiosity, Jemma cupped her VR balls and let her hand slide along the hard length of her cock. “Is this thing supposed to ache so badly?” she asked in a disingenuous tone, giving it a couple of good strokes—aware that Dax would be able to hear the slap of flesh on flesh.

“No,” he rasped. “You’re supposed to fuck someone into oblivion with it before it gets that bad.”

“Huh,” Jemma said, as if this was news to her. “I dunno. It’s pretty big. I’m not sure there’s room in here for the thing.”

With no further warning, she leaned back until she could plunge two fingers into Dax’s pussy. “Fuck!” he cried, his hips lifting her body as they thrust up.

He was already soaking, and she let her thumb slide over his clit as she thrust her fingers in and out in time with the jerk of his hips. She let go of her cock in favor of taking up the chain attached to the nipple clamps again, tugging at first one and then the other. Within minutes, Dax went rigid beneath her and jerked through a powerful climax, his passage clamping rhythmically around her fingers in a way that made her cock jerk and twitch in sympathy. A little dribble of pre-cum squeezed out of the tip and dripped down to puddle on Dax’s washboard abs.

“Merciful Goddess,” he groaned, once he’d gained a bit of control over his voice. His breathing came in shallow, uneven pants as he tried not to move his chest and make the nipple clamps bite harder into his flesh.

Jemma gave him a predatory smile and curled her fingers inside him. “Oh, sorry,” she said in a voice laced with confusion. “Did I say you were done? I don’t think I did.”

A jolt traveled through his body and he tried to twist away from the slow stimulation of his oversensitive flesh. There was nowhere to go while he was bound, however, and she followed the movement easily.

“Shit— _ah_!”

“Problem, lover?” she asked, enjoying the way his muscles flexed beneath her as he strained against his bonds. If only her damned erection wasn’t so distracting…

“ _Argh_ —” His chest heaved, the nipple clamps forgotten as she altered the angle of her wrist and brushed butterfly touches over his clit. “You evil… sadistic…”

She grinned and increased the pressure of her thumb, circling the hard nub. “It’s nothing you haven’t thoroughly enjoyed from the other side, you know. Do you good to see how the other half lives.”

Dax cursed and shuddered through a second climax. Jemma pushed him through it, drawing it out. When he was limp and drained beneath her, she slid her fingers free and craned toward the bedside table where she’d laid the other toy she’d picked from the closet—a powerful C-shaped vibrator that would stay in place when inserted, mercilessly stimulating both the G-spot and the clit for as long as the toy was kept on. 

After adding a bit of lube to keep everything properly slippy, Jemma dismounted long enough to press the thicker arm of the vibrator into Dax’s body. He hissed and jerked as the other arm settled in place over his pubic bone.

“Get ready for a wild ride,” she warned, and thumbed the little remote through the settings until they built to a moderate level of vibration. Dax’s muscles went stiff and he came again almost immediately, the sensations battering at Jemma’s shields and threatening to send her over the edge as well.

She clamped down on her control, not ready to spend just yet. There was something she really was eager to experience firsthand, assuming Dax wan’t put off by the idea completely. She climbed back up to straddle him again, and let the vibrator do its work, pushing him over another peak, and another.

Whenever he seemed on the verge of growing numb to the device’s stimulation, she pushed it up to a higher level, until he threw his head back, and begged, “Fuck! Jemma… please…”

She gave the nipple clamps a tug to focus his attention, and cautiously lowered her shields enough that she would be able to sense his reaction to her next words. “Had enough, fly-boy? Tell you what. Suck me off—take me nice and deep until I drown you with this huge load of come I’ve got saved up for you—then I’ll turn off the vibe and unchain you. Deal?”

She focused carefully on the sense of him through the bond—clearly taken aback, but not disgusted or angry. “Jemma,” he said, his voice hoarse. “You know I’ve never…”

Uncertainty was a very different thing from refusal. She silenced him with a thumb on his lips, and pressed it deep into his mouth as she felt his next climax rise up to wash over him. His eyes rolled up and fluttered closed for a long moment.

“Not exactly rocket science, though, is it, lover?” she asked when he came back to himself, stroking the pad of her thumb over his tongue as she pulled partway out and slid back in again, deeper than before. “Besides, I’m far more interested in watching this great big cock disappear between your lips than in the details of your technique.” She leaned down to kiss his forehead. “Don’t overthink things—I’ve still got three more settings to go,” she threatened, and cranked the vibe up another notch to demonstrate.

Dax breathed out sharply through his nose and quivered, jerking weakly as yet another climax hit him. She smiled and scooted higher up his body, being careful not to yank on the nipple clamps accidentally.

Her cock seemed to strain toward his lips of its own volition, and she took it in hand, eager to finally soothe the deep, throbbing ache of need. Dax seemed half gone, still lost to the ruthless stimulation of the vibrator, but he opened at the brush of the sensitive glans across his lips. His mouth was soft, wet heat—and she felt the same sense of _relief home mine_ that she had often felt second-hand as he wove his fingers into her hair and slid in deep.

Dax’s experience was different than hers, however. She kept the link between them open so she could read him. While her love of cock-sucking was largely selfish—the desire to be filled and used—his willingness to do this was rooted in his desire to please her. To indulge her in whatever ways he was able, at all times.

He was unsure, but let her guide him up and down the thick shaft, trusting her not to push too hard or too far. It brought a ridiculous burn of tears to her eyes despite the deliciously filthy, carnal nature of what she was doing. She knew she couldn’t last—she’d been holding back too long, and her shields were still down to monitor his well-being.

Before she was ready, she felt her balls draw up tight, a hot bolt of pleasure coiling at the base of her spine. She struggled for control and pulled out, not actually willing to come down his throat the first time he’d ever sucked cock. Instead, she thumbed the vibe to its highest setting with shaky fingers, reached behind her to pull the nipple clamps free, and fisted her cock with fast, hard movements.

Dax bucked and cried out beneath her, convulsing into a final, shattering orgasm even as hot come erupted from her cock in thick ropes, painting his face, lips, and neck. She reeled and caught herself with a hand on the mattress, feeling suddenly lightheaded as her balls emptied with a final few jerks. Beneath her, Dax fell back against the bed, completely limp.

She dragged her shields back up with considerable difficulty—Dax’s consciousness had gone warm and hazy, and she didn’t want to be pulled down after him. She needed to look after him, clean him up and get him unbound. Even now, the vibrator was still buzzing away at the highest setting. This was why their usual dynamic was the way it was. Dax’s natural talent for caretaking—his ability to hold himself at least somewhat aloof from his body’s reactions during even the most intense sex—made him an ideal Dom.

She was happy to have been able to let him experience what it felt like to let go completely, to let himself succumb to the purely physical. It was a struggle for her to keep herself together long enough to climb off him, retrieve the vibe and the other toys, unbuckle the cuffs from his wrists and ankles, and go get a glass of water and a warm, wet cloth to clean him up.

She was just returning with the washcloth when there was a brief, disorienting buzz of mental static that made her nearly trip over her own feet. When her vision cleared and she looked down, the spent cock was gone, her body back to normal. She hurried across to the bed, to find Dax’s face unmarked, but his chest and stomach criss-crossed by ropes of his own semen where he’d spent multiple times, unnoticed by either of them as the VR shaped their perceptions to the scenario of gender-swapped genitals.

She shook her head and went to wipe off the sticky mess. The vibe was gone, part of the illusion. His nipples were red and sore-looking from the clamps, though, and there were faint marks on the skin of his wrists where he’d pulled against the cuffs.

When he was clean, she set the cloth aside and climbed in to sit next to him so she could stroke his hair and check on him through the bond again. The sense of him was still quiet and loose— _undone_ in a way she wasn’t used to feeling from this direction. It was honestly a bit disconcerting. She shook her head at herself and started scratching her nails lightly against his scalp, gratified when his awareness began to drift up, and he slung an arm across her legs in a loose embrace.


	12. Chapter 12

IN A CONTROL ROOM at the center of the pleasure complex, the man known as Obsidian leaned back in his chair and undid a second button of his tailored white shirt. Gold cuff-links flashed as he tweaked the aural focus of the surveillance equipment in the Pendragon Suite, where the spies were currently lounging together on the bed, naked and unselfconscious after indulging in one of the harmless hedonistic distractions offered by the spa.

Anytime someone was able to circumvent the usual waiting list for the pleasure dome, they were worth extra scrutiny. It either meant that they wielded enough power that they might make a valuable tool, or that they were being helped by outside forces. In this case, a quick check into the background of Dax and Jemma Tarthasian was enough to make it clear that their presence was not due to the former state of affairs.

A pair of trust-fund babies from Avanar could never have leap-frogged past politicians, royalty, and corporate tycoons to gain a coveted spot at the pleasure dome mere weeks after making reservations. Something else was going on.

Obsidian’s staff had done their jobs efficiently, gathering complete body scans from the pair after the first time they’d used the dome’s matter transport system, and submitting the DNA and body print files to the galactic database for a match. After a delay just long enough to be irritating, the results had come back, mere moments before.

Dax and Jemma Tarthasian of Avanar were actually Dax and Jemma Veillor’ah, of nowhere in particular—a pair of no-account space pirates more suited to the sleazy spaceports and back-alley bars of the border worlds than a high-end spa that catered to kings and conquerors.

Obsidian lifted a hand to trace the curves of the woman’s body on the video unit. He could just picture her in chains, part of the harem of pleasure slaves he kept as a diversion. Unfortunately, she was more valuable to him as a pawn than a plaything, and once she’d served her purpose for him, there wasn’t likely to be much of anything left.

He sensed the Conglomerate’s hand in this ruse, and Jemma Veillor’ah was his key to lopping off at least one of the Hydra’s many irritating heads.

His attention turned to the man in the bed, curled up in the bitch’s embrace like a simpering child clinging to its nanny. _Dax Veillor’ah_. He was definitely surplus to requirements. Obsidian reached for his comm link to the security complex, and flicked the switch.

* * *

This time, when Jemma was transported out of his loose embrace in a shower of sparkles, Dax was instantly and irrationally sure that it was not a game. Every instinct he possessed screamed at him that their lives were in danger.

He scrambled upright, cursing his body’s weakness and un-coordination after the VR sex marathon they’d indulged in only minutes before. Calling on his years of training as a pilot and even more years spent dodging the authorities in the space lanes, he forced leaden limbs into motion and grabbed the nearest clothing to hand, pulling it on carelessly.

He needed a weapon.

He cast around, before remembering the meal they’d had earlier. Steak. _Steak knives_.

The elegant table for two was completely empty except for two half-finished glasses of wine.

“Shit,” he hissed between clenched teeth. “ _Fucking_ VR…”

Instead, he grabbed one of the slender wine glasses and shattered it on the edge of the table, checking the broken edge for sharpness before awkwardly tucking it in his belt, the flat base keeping it from slipping out. Then, he upended the elegant table itself and threw it as hard as he could against the wall.

Two of the legs broke off. He grabbed the longer of the two pieces and hefted it—too light and with horrible balance in his hand, but better than nothing. He clamped it under his arm and ran to the teleport interface, while simultaneously stretching his mind outward, seeking Jemma.

There was confusion on the other end of the bond, tightly controlled fear and determination. Jemma was fighting someone, or more than likely, several someones—struggling to get free. Dax wavered, knowing that any distraction from him could be disastrous. Moments later, he flinched, feeling the echo of a hit that sent Jemma’s awareness gray and hazy.

_Jemma!_ he sent, as loudly as he could.

Jemma was still reeling, but he felt her focus weakly on the bond. _Office_ , she said. _Private… security center, maybe…_

_On it_ , Dax tried to reassure. _I’ll find it, Jemma. I’ll find you._

Jemma’s attention was wrenched outward, and the sense of her grew distant. Unclear. With no further help coming from that quarter, Dax grabbed a stylus and used it to pry off the panel of the teleporter’s control unit. No longer concerned with flying under the radar, he threw it aside with more force than necessary and started ripping out wires.

It took several minutes to rewire the damn thing and hack through the security systems to retrieve the coordinates of the room’s last beam-out. He tried very hard not to think of what all could be done to a naked, weaponless woman in the space of a few minutes. _Weaponless, maybe_ , he reminded himself. _But not defenseless._

With a final series of commands to override the lockouts, Dax programmed in the destination and leapt onto the pad, setting himself in a defensive stance with the broken table leg held ready in one hand.

When the tingle of transport released him, he whirled to take in his surroundings and assess the threat. Jemma stood across the stark office, still naked and with a bruise blooming across her right temple. Dax saw red and immediately forced himself to stow it, knowing that blind rage would more than likely get both of them killed.

Oddly, she was not restrained, though two goons stood ready, several steps away. One of them had the beginnings of a spectacular black eye. _Good girl,_ he thought with a flash of satisfaction. The mental link between them was locked down tight, though, not a single tendril of response escaping from behind Jemma’s shields. Her eyes were wide and glazed.

Dax’s murderous gaze moved to the elegant male figure leaning against a steel-and-glass desk next to her, ankles crossed. The man was dark-haired and dark-eyed, dressed in the sort of suit that cost more than most of the people working here made in a decade. He uncrossed his arms, and Dax took in the sleek blaster clasped loosely in his hand.

“Well, well, Mr. Veillor’ah,” he said in cultured Standard, “I see you’ve decided to join us after all. How fortunate.”

Dax stalked forward, anger turning his movements predatory. “Not fortunate for you.”

Before he could close half the distance between them, the blaster whipped up to press smoothly against Jemma’s temple. She didn’t move or react in any way, her expression continuing to waver between complete blankness and a faint frown of concentration.

Dax froze.

“On the contrary,” said the man, as urbane and conversational as if they’d been discussing the weather. “You’ve saved me having to send someone to get you. Your presence will make a perfect test of the drug’s effect.” His attention flickered to the goons. “Men, restrain him. And Mr. Veillor’ah—if you resist, I will blow your wife’s brains out and find a different pawn to use.”

_The drug’s effect_ , he’d said.

The bottom dropped out of Dax’s stomach, as everything became clear to him in the space between one second and the next. Somehow they’d been found out, and now their captor had injected Jemma with Jade Dream. He would use her as a weapon to take out Cobalt and other members of the Conglomerate, along with who-knew-how-many other people.

For a heart-stopping moment, he couldn’t breathe.

The goons marched toward him with drawn shock-wands. Still he stood frozen, until Jemma’s captor pressed the muzzle of the blaster more firmly against her head and said, “Your _weapons_ , Mr. Veillor’ah.”

With no other options, Dax unclenched his hand with some difficulty and let the table leg drop. He pulled the shard of broken glass slowly from his belt and tossed that away as well. A moment later, rough hands closed around his arms and dragged him forward to stand a few steps away from Jemma and her captor.

“Much better,” said the man. “Now, let us waste no more time. Jemma, darling, tell me how you feel.”

Mercurial expressions played over Jemma’s face before her features settled into a wistful smile. “Happy,” she whispered.

“No,” Dax breathed, still unable to get even the faintest sense of her through the bond. “Jemma, _no_.”

“Excellent, my dear,” said the man, ignoring him. “Now, I do have one tiny favor to ask of you. Be a pet and take this blaster.”

Dax watched in shock as he handed Jemma the blaster. She looked down at it in interest, the smile still playing about her lips.

“The safety is off,” the man told her. “Point it at your husband for me, and pull the trigger.”


	13. Chapter 13

_JEMMA, NO!_ DAX SENT the thought battering against her shields with all the force he could muster. The barrier between them wavered, and a frown furrowed her brow above the vacant smile.

Through her shields, Dax caught a flash of, _no, no… the drug… keep your shields up, don’t let the effects reach Dax, don’t let it get him, too…_

She didn’t even realize she was about to kill him. There was no connection in her mind between the order she was about to obey and what the consequences would be. Yet even under the drug’s influence, part of her was still trying to protect him. A crazy, desperate plan burst into Dax’s mind like a nova. He closed his eyes, focusing all of his strength inward.

_Jemma_ , he sent with every bit of power he could muster, _if you’ve ever trusted me with anything in your life, trust me now! LOWER YOUR SHIELDS._

Jemma drew in a sharp breath. An instant later, the barrier between them came crashing down, as she reacted instinctively to his command. Dax struggled not to be swamped by the wave of chemical happiness and her compulsion to obey her captor’s orders. He thought back to every time she’d ever submitted to him, placing herself completely in his care, and shoved those memories at her as hard as he could.

_Yes_ , he thought at her as he felt relief rush through her. _Just like that. Give me your trust, like you always, always do. Let me have control. Let me take care of you._

An observer would not have been able to tell that anything had occurred. Aside from the faint frown lines in her forehead that had appeared, only to smooth out a moment later as she submitted her will to Dax instead of their captor, Jemma didn’t twitch a muscle.

“ _Now_ , pet,” said the man in the suit, still lounging against the desk, unconcerned. “Don’t dawdle.”

Jemma had already obeyed his first command by pointing the blaster at Dax. Now, Dax showed her what he wanted her to do before she obeyed the command to fire. With a tiny movement of her wrist, she twitched the muzzle sideways a fraction and pulled the trigger, shooting the guard on Dax’s left through the heart. Before the second guard could do more than pull in a surprised breath and raise his shock wand, a second blast sent him to the ground with his colleague.

“What—” the man in the suit began, the question cut off abruptly as Dax commanded Jemma to toss him the blaster, grip first.

Stay right where you are,” Dax said through clenched teeth, leveling the weapon at his chest.

In his mind, the sense of Jemma’s presence seemed to settle, melting into him with utter relief as she let him take control and direct her—safe in the knowledge that he would protect her, no matter what. The secondhand effects from the drug were beguiling, and only Dax’s overwhelming need to keep Jemma safe and get them away with the information they needed allowed him to maintain his own awareness.

He knew that if he had experienced Jade Dream firsthand, he would never have been able to stand against it.

Now, though, he kept one eye on his prisoner and turned the rest of his focus to Jemma. “Right, Jemma—it’s up to you now. Take what we need, and let’s get the hell out of here.”

Jemma’s deep brown eyes narrowed and fell on the man at the desk. Dax felt her all-consuming happiness flare higher as she did exactly what she’d been told, with relish. Their would be captor’s eyes went wide, and he whispered, “No,” as Jemma’s telepathic attack sliced through his defenses like a laser through cheap plastic.

His hands came up to grasp at his temples, mouth sliding open in dismay as Jemma unleashed her powerful telepathy on him, tearing out passwords, secrets, contacts… anything that could conceivably be related to Jade Dream. His voice cried out in a shriek that quickly grew into a high-pitched scream, and he collapsed writhing on the floor, blood bursting from his nose as if he’d been punched. After long moments, he moved no more.

“Got what we need, lover?” Dax asked, without a hint of remorse.

Jemma looked at him and smiled. A moment later, all of the information she’d taken from Lem’Hadar Valdosian, code name Obsidian, spread out before his awareness like a banquet. Dax lowered the blaster from where he had it trained on the now-harmless Cartel kingpin, and stepped forward to drag Jemma into a deep, penetrating kiss.

That was perhaps not the smartest plan, since her happiness rose up and threatened to swamp both of them. He pulled back with difficulty and pressed his lips to her forehead.

“ _Shit_ , that’s dangerous,” he said, and pried his hands away from her shoulders. “Let me get the files we need, and then maybe you’d better get some shields up again.”

Jemma blinked up at him with glowing, liquid eyes, and it was all he could do to tear himself away and start hacking into Obsidian’s private database, using the passwords Jemma had plucked from his mind. Ten minutes later, he was stuffing a data crystal in his pocket as he helped Jemma onto the office’s transport pad. They materialized in the cockpit of the _Javelin_ , and Dax gunned the engines into life without so much as a basic pre-flight check—intent on getting them both the hell out of there before anyone realized what had happened in the sterile office they’d just left.

Now, they just had to make the four-day hyperlight journey back to Cobalt with the files.

* * *

“Ma’am?” The tinny voice sounded through the intercom in Cobalt’s office, drawing her attention from the quarterly earnings report from the Delta sector.

“Yes, what is it, Tomás? I said I wan’t to be disturbed.”

“Apologies, Ma’am. But there’s a communication from the _SS Javelin_. It’s a distress beacon, running on auto-repeat. Sensors are picking up the vessel at the edge of our range. It appears to be drifting.”

Cobalt’s eyes narrowed, and she flicked off the data report she’d been working on. “Pipe it in. And send a rescue crew out to the _Javelin_ immediately. Have it scanned thoroughly for explosives or contaminants before boarding. It could well be a trap.”

“Right away, Ma’am,” Tomás said promptly, and cut the connection.

A moment later, her console pinged, signaling that the distress message was available for playback. She hit the button and waited for the encoded message to de-encrypt.

“ _—two days out of Pendris, and Jemma is experiencing withdrawal symptoms of Jade Dream. Our medical equipment is basic, and her condition is deteriorating rapidly. Her telepathic shields are crumbling, and I’m beginning to experience bleed-over of the effects. Not sure how long I’ll be able to continue functioning, or how it will affect me as her control diminishes. I’m setting this beacon to continuous auto-repeat on Conglomerate frequencies. We have the requested information in our possession. Repeat, we have the requested information—_ ”

Cobalt sat back in her chair. Dax and Jemma had done it. Now it was just a matter of discovering if they’d given their lives to do so.

* * *

A detailed scan of the _Javelin_ showed no booby traps or other dangers—only Dax and Jemma, both unconscious in the cramped med-bay. Jemma was strapped carefully into the narrow bunk, still convulsing weakly every few seconds as her system tried to purge the drug. Dax slumped in a heap on the floor next to the medical bed, where he’d evidently succumbed while trying to care for her.

The data crystal containing the stolen files on the Cartel’s Jade Dream operation was still in Dax’s right front pocket, thankfully undamaged. Cobalt took possession of the crystal personally, and immediately forwarded the files to the boffins down in medical and R&D. She had to consciously ignore the rather ridiculous urge to go visit her unlucky operatives in the Conglomerate’s private sickbay, along with a wholly unaccustomed twinge of guilt at having sent them, quite possibly, to their deaths.

Instead, she contented herself with regular status reports while the scientists and decoded and looked through the contents of the data crystal. When one of the lab techs discovered a sub-folder containing the formula for an antidote, however, she stopped pretending to work and went down on the flimsy excuse of wanting to gauge its effectiveness for future use.

Jemma’s condition was deteriorating rapidly. None of the other known victims of Jade Dream had survived, but it was generally because they cheerfully killed themselves on the orders of their puppet-masters, either during or after the commission of whatever crimes they’d been involved in. Not much was known about the direct effects of the drug on the humanoid body. For this reason, Jemma was currently hooked up to so many probes and sensors that she looked more like a cyborg than a woman.

Nearby, Dax lay on a second diagnostic bed, only his absolute stillness and the crown of electrodes on his skull identifying his as a collateral victim. If Jemma died, it was clear he would die, too as the link between them destroyed his brain. Cobalt had to suppress a shiver at the thought.

To distract herself, she turned to address the harried lab tech. “Is the antidote ready?”

The man swallowed and nodded, obviously nervous in her presence. “Yes, Ma’am,” he said. “I’m just readying the dosage. We’re having to estimate, since there’s very little information available on Thestrian biology.”

Cobalt merely nodded and retired to watch from the corner, unwilling to risk disconcerting the tech so badly that he made a mistake. Most of the available information on Thestrians had been destroyed along with their planet, and on top of everything else, Jemma was a hybrid. There was no telling what the antidote would do to her.

The lab tech handed a vial of orange liquid to a white-coated medico, who inserted it into a hypo and injected it into Jemma’s neck with a hiss of pressurized micro-spray. Both the tech and the doctor immediately turned their attention to the various readouts and scan results flashing over the console’s display screen. Cobalt, on the other hand, split her attention between the two lifeless forms on the beds. Jemma’s condition appeared unchanged for several minutes, during which the two men watching the readouts spoke in low voices, comparing results and discussing options.

Eventually, though, Jemma’s body jerked.

“Doctor,” Cobalt warned.

“Yes,” said the man in the white coat, still looking at the readouts. “I see it. Norepinephrine spike, along with an increase in activity within the meta-thalamus. Brain function is rising, but only in certain areas.”

She twitched again, but Cobalt’s attention was drawn from her to Dax as the man let out a low groan. He shifted under the light sheet drawn over his naked torso, and came up flailing a moment later.

“No!” he cried, and ripped the electrodes from his scalp. Barely conscious, he lunged from the bed and staggered, going to one knee when his muscles failed to cooperate. “Jemma, _no_!”

“Sir!” the doctor said, his attention finally torn from screen in front of him. “Please, get back in the bed immediately!”

Dax ignored him and tried to stagger to his feet, only to fall again. “She’s trying to break the bond,” he grated out. “She thinks she’s protecting me! It will _kill_ her…”

Cobalt broke free of her immobility and hurried across the distance separating them. Dax’s hands were like claws as he grabbed onto her, accepting her support as he once more tried to rise. Cobalt was considerably stronger than she looked, but she was shocked by how weak he was, leaning heavily on her as she helped him across to Jemma’s biobed.

“This is highly irregular…” the doctor said uncertainly, and Dax cut him off with a snarl.

“Stand _down_ , doctor,” Cobalt snapped, and let Dax go as he transferred his weight from her to the edge of the thin mattress.

* * *

Dax’s heart was pounding, the increased blood flow doing nothing to bring his weak, rebellious muscles under control. He ripped off the halo of sensors from Jemma’s temples and forehead with shaking hands, absolute fear flooding him as he felt the terrible, screaming strain on the mating bond.

“Don’t you dare… don’t you _dare_ …” he repeated like a mantra, until he could get his fingers on the bare skin of her psi-points. He leaned down, bringing their foreheads together, and closed his eyes. Ignoring the pain, he dragged his awareness along the unravelling threads of the link until he could make out Jemma’s awareness on the other end—frightened, disoriented, and nearly mind-blind from the lingering effects of the drug.

_Dax, please—don’t!_ she thought, her mind a maelstrom of confusion. _I’m dying—let me go! You’ll be dragged down with me!_

Rather than argue, he wrapped his awareness around hers like a blanket. Gathering her whirling thoughts. Holding them together. _And you think that would be a bad thing?_ he asked. _Don’t leave me alone, Jemma. I won’t LET you leave me alone. You’re not going to die, though. We’re at the Conglomerate’s compound. They’ve given you an antidote, I think. You’re coming back—you’re_ not _dying._

She huddled, quivering in his mental embrace, still grasping the roots of the bond as if she might tear them out at any moment.

_Are you sure?_ she asked a moment later, the thought tiny and scared.

_I’m sure,_ he said, projecting utter certainty. _You were so deep before that I could barely reach you. Now, you’re here. We’re talking. Come back the rest of the way with me, beloved. Please._

With slow, deliberate movements, Jemma released her mental grip on the bond and reached out to him, entwining her thoughts with his and following him up toward consciousness as he backtracked along the frayed link.

Eventually, he became aware of his body again. An instant later, he became aware of hers. She was shivering beneath him, violent shudders due partly to the erratic hitching of her chest and partly to the shock of returning consciousness. He released his grip on her temples and wrapped his arms around her.

“She’s cold!” he snapped to the people around them, his voice as hoarse as if he’d been shouting.

“Get her a warming pad,” Cobalt ordered.

There was a flurry of activity around them as techs scrambled to place a warming pad under Jemma while Dax continued to cover as much of her body with his as he could. Only when her quivering muscles quieted and her breath evened out did he ease back enough to see her face.

Her eyes were open, red-rimmed but lucid. Tear tracks ran wavering paths down the side of her face as she looked up at him.

“I was so _happy_ ,” she whispered.

Dax’s heart clenched. “And you will be again, my heart,” he vowed. “You’ll see.”


	14. Chapter 14

AFTER THE MYSTERIOUS and unexpected death of Lem’Hadar Valdosian, codename Obsidian, the pleasure dome on Pendris had fallen into immediate disarray and closed without warning barely a week later. Lawyers were scrambling to uncover the organizational structure of the place in preparation for the flood of lawsuits from the super rich whose money had disappeared along with their reservations.

It was everything Cobalt could have asked for and more, Dax knew, as name after name was dragged into the light and exposed as a Cartel member or supporter.

Jemma had fallen into a black depression after recovering from her exposure to Jade Dream, as her neurotransmitters struggled to rebalance themselves. None of the drugs the doctors gave her were effective, thanks to her hybrid genetics and unusual telepathy.

Dax had spent days holding her close, stroking his fingers through her hair and his thoughts through her mind for hours at a time, before she finally sat up one morning and said, “I’m done with this. I can be depressed here, or I can be depressed while we go do something useful. Let’s go back to Pendris and make sure that all the workers there got out safely. It’s the least we can do, since we’re the ones responsible for them losing their jobs with no warning.”

He grinned and agreed immediately, feeling himself start to pull free of the terrible lethargy that had been sucking at him, as well. “Good idea. With half a million credits in the bank, I think we deserve a little vacation. I’ll inform Cobalt, you get our stuff packed.

* * * 

The spa was _almost_ deserted. Unfortunately, no one had thought to check on a many-tentacled intimate massage specialist who was confined to wet environments, and whose communications unit was malfunctioning. After Dax had cobbled a fix for the unit so they could talk properly, Hannzi’pridaliatren was so immensely grateful for their rescue and offer of a lift that he didn’t even protest when Dax insisted on nicknaming him Handsy.

And so it was that Dax, Jemma, and Handsy found themselves in the _SS Javelin’s_ cargo hold, lounging together in a shipping container filled with mud transported directly from the pleasure dome’s mud pits.

“So,” Dax said, as a tentacle wound around his cock and balls, tickling them deliciously. “I have to ask, buddy. What does a cephalopod who reproduces by budding get out of hot multi-orifice tentacle sex with humanoids? If you don’t mind me asking, of course.”

There was a weighty pause as Handsy pressed a tentacle a bit deeper into Jemma’s mouth, forcing her head down until the mud oozed in slow motion over her face. Other tentacle tips painted muddy spirals around her nipples, and a wave of bliss washed across the bond.

“Your mucus tastes delicious,” Handsy replied eventually. The voice-synth’s tinny monotone leant an additional dimension of humor to the unexpected statement, and Dax chuckled aloud.

“Different strokes, my friend. Different strokes,” he said.

With a brand of cheeky humor that Dax was only now beginning to appreciate, Handsy altered his stroke over Dax’s hard dick, at the same moment Jemma’s nose and mouth disappeared from view. He closed his eyes and followed her over the edge into a deep, full-body orgasm, a laugh of joy echoing through the bond between them.

_finis_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That's it, folks! I got plot in my smut and I'm not even sorry.
> 
> There's a short sequel story set in this world that, shall we say, doesn't suffer from the plot problem. I'll try to get it up next week sometime.


End file.
